Ungodly Hour
by SassySuzy84
Summary: "He was going to fight for her this time, even though he found himself fighting alone." Based on upcoming spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I don't own GG or the Fray Song from whence this title came. **

Don't talk, don't say a thing

Cause your eyes they tell me more than your words

Don't go, don't leave me now

Cause they say the best way out is through

And I am short on words

Knowing what's occurred

She begins to leave because of me

Her bag is now much heavier

I wish that I could carry her

But this is our ungodly hour

"Ungodly Hour"

The Fray

He had seen the look in her eyes many times. He'd had a knack for knowing when her words didn't match her eyes and he tried desperately to see it then. But she had carefully avoided his gaze, making sure to only make eye contact at the end of her heart-wrenching speech when it seemed absolutely necessary. And he was almost sure that he saw it-that look that told him there was no truth reflected in her words. As quickly as it had appeared, though, it was gone and he was left with only the cold gaze of a woman he didn't quite know anymore. So sudden was the transformation that he was very close to believing he had imagined it. Close but not convinced.

There was something about the way her shoulders looked as she turned to leave. They didn't quite sag, but they did not hold the straight assuredness that he had always admired in her. When she made a decision, she stuck with it and held herself tall. But as she walked away, her shoulders looked heavier, sadder. Not the relief one might imagine feeling after ending a five-year affair that was as "oppressive" as theirs could sometimes be considered. Not the relief that he had witnessed first had when she had broken up with Nate.

It looked as if her load was heavier, not lighter. And he wanted so desperately to help her, to lift whatever burden she felt and to carry her. Fix her. He knew that she didn't want his help. He also knew that there were many times that he hadn't wanted the help of one Blair Waldorf but she had been stubborn and relentless. She had pursued him and his happiness and in the end, he had always been thankful for her efforts for they had made him feel her love and care for him.

She may not want his love now. Hell, she many never want his love again but that was irrelevant. He loved her, more than he ever thought he was capable of loving another human being. Blair had showed him how to love, though and she had also shown him what you did for the people that you loved. So he was going to fight for her this time, even though he found himself fighting alone.

How to help Blair was an entirely different problem. He never had difficulty figuring out how to help _his _Blair but he had no clue how to help this new version. For whatever reason, _this_ Blair wanted to be with Humphrey. With all that was going on with Louis, she had Dan would have to be put on hold unless her family were to lose everything. Louis, the dowry, they were all keeping Blair from being with…him. Chuck couldn't control Louis or the strange Royal Minder but he could do something about the damn dowry.

He knew that Blair had wanted him to stay out of it. He also knew that the whole idea of him paying the dowry was probably a sickening reminder of his previous and deeply regrettable actions with Jack. Whether or not Blair wanted to be with him though, she did deserve to be free. She needed to be allowed to make her own choices and decisions-no matter how uncharacteristic or heartbreaking they were. So he'd do something about the dowry-pay it. It was clear that no one could know. But keeping it a secret didn't seem like it would be too much of a problem, especially when the only person with the ability to tell he was lying, wouldn't even look him in the eyes.

Chuck reached into his suit pocket and retrieved his phone. Slowly, he scrolled through his contacts till he came to the one he was looking for and quickly pressed send before he changed his mind.

"We've got to meet," Chuck stated firmly into the phone.

He's not sure whether he was truly surprised or not that Louis met with him. Truthfully, he had expected it to take a little more convincing and conniving to get the royal to see him at all. But after a short phone conversation, Chuck had found himself seated on the Bass Jet en route London. The car service had covertly taken him to the hotel where he now sat with Blair's husband.

"What do you want, Chuck?" Louis prodded in his lazy accent as he absentmindedly twirled his wedding ring.

"The dowry," Chuck said evenly, "I want to pay it."

"Ah, yes. The dowry. I'm surprised it took this long," Louis laughed bitterly. "I had thought you would have paid it weeks ago."

Chuck slowly inhaled.

"I was trying to abide by Blair's wishes," he stated plainly.

"And now," Louis continued to prod.

"And now," Chuck began, "Now I'm trying to right some wrongs."

"Wrongs?" Louis inquired.

Chuck remained silent, his jaw slowly working up and down.

"Let's just get this over with," Chuck sighed, pulling out his briefcase and setting it on the table. He deftly entered the combination (11-17-7) and felt only a tiny amount of satisfaction as the lock clicked, signaling its release. He slowly lifted the lid and turned the case to the other man.

Louis leaned in slowly and picked up a stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills and began to flip through them. He glanced in confusion at the stack in his hand and set it down. He quickly grabbed another stack and another and found each the same. He quickly counted the rows and the depth of the case and after doing some quick calculations he turned to the other man and giving him a quizzical look.

"This is not the amount that we agreed on."

Chuck had hoped to avoid this portion of the transaction and found himself wishing that he had sent someone else in his place, though he knew there had been no one else he could trust.

"No. It's not."

"But why?" Louis questioned, unable to hide the confusion from his voice or expression. "She's with that damn Humphrey character," Louis stated thinking that this piece of information had to be a surprise to the man staring at him.

Chuck was surprised by this declaration but only by the knowledge of the other and not the fact itself and therefore his face remained unmoved.

"How did you know?" he ground out.

Louis' stony gaze barely budged as he tried to match Chuck's cool exterior. "I have my ways," was all that Louis offered.

A beat of silence and then Louis looked back down at the money in the case.

"Is she really worth it?"

"Yes," Chuck replied without a moment's hesitation.

"But is she _really_ worth it," Louis pressed. "I mean this is _double_ the dowry."

"She's worth it," is all Chuck could say.

"What's your angle?"

"I don't have one," replied Chuck tiredly.

"Come on. You pay _double_ the dowry and you don't have an angle?"

Louis paused for a moment and then reached for his phone as an idea came to him, "I can call her. Tell her what you did…"

"No," Chuck menaces.

Louis puts the phone down slowly and stares at the other man.

"Blair can't know."

Louis soaks in Chuck's words, glancing at the other man and trying to comprehend but having no idea.

"Then what? What do you want me to do?" he finally offers.

"Nothing. I want Blair's freedom. That's all."

"Seems like an awfully steep price for freedom."

"Not hers," Chuck says," but I don't expect you to understand."

Louis thinks about these words for a long moment, wondering if he's really seeing Chuck for the first time. He had always let himself believe that Chuck was evil and manipulative. Maybe he wasn't because it was obvious to Louis that Chuck loved Blair more than anything in the world, certainly more than he ever had and most assuredly more than that disgusting boy from Brooklyn.

He took a deep breath and decided to ask the question that was puzzling him the most.

"What do you want, Chuck?"

"Her happiness," he states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But she doesn't want you," Louis retorted in exasperation.

"Doesn't matter."

"Why?"

'_The worst thing you've ever done…the darkest thought you've ever had…I will stand by you through anything.' _

'_Why would you do that?'_

'_Because I love you.'_

Her words echoed through his tired mind and he tried hard to suppress the pain that those memories and words evoked, especially after her most recent words that seem to negate all of her previous declarations.

He looked down at his hands and then up slowly at the man across from him and gave him the only answer he could, the truth.

"Because I love her."

All Louis could do was nod because those words seemed to bring an incredible weight into the room that now seemed very small for being a luxury suite.

Chuck stood to leave and as if a last minute decision, Louis rose as well and offered his hand to the other man. Chuck glanced down at the outstretched hand, then up to his face. Whatever he saw there gave him peace and he slowly reached out and gripped Louis' hand in a firm shake.

As Chuck left the room, Louis felt a strange kinship for the man who had clearly had his heart broken. He quickly grabbed his phone from the table and dialed the number, waiting impatiently for the other party to answer.

"We need to talk," he said grimly as soon as the other line was answered.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I reformatted the lyrics at the front, nothing is new. I'm just picky. **

Happiness feels a lot like sorrow  
>Let it be, you can't make it come or go<br>But you are gone- not for good but for now  
>Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good<p>

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard  
>Happiness was never mine to hold<br>Careful child, light the fuse and get away  
>'Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks<p>

Happiness damn near destroys you  
>Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor<br>So you tell yourself, that's enough for now  
>Happiness has a violent roar<p>

Happiness is like the old man told me  
>Look for it, but you'll never find it all<br>Let it go, live your life and leave it  
>Then one day, wake up and she'll be home<br>Home, home, home

"Happiness"

The Fray

If Chuck had thought that paying the dowry would offer him the tiniest amount of relief, he quickly discovered that to be untrue. While he did find himself at ease with the decision, he couldn't quite shake what it did to his nerves. Now there was nothing holding Blair back. Though her freedom and ability to be and do whatever she wanted had been his ultimate goal, he didn't look forward to seeing what she would do with it.

It was a hard place to be; loving someone enough to know you should let go but dying to hold on. It was the proverbial rock and a hard place. He knew that he wasn't holding Blair back anymore. She had made her feelings about him perfectly clear in their last conversation. So now came the task of letting go. To call what he would be doing "moving on" would be a misnomer. He wasn't going to quit loving her. He wasn't even sure he knew how (and some faintly ridiculous quote from a cowboy movie he had watched with Eric and Blair floated through his head). No, he would still love her, conceivably forever. But he would no longer let it rule his life. He couldn't remember the last time he did anything solely for his own enjoyment.

The ride in the limo from the airport made Chuck feel lonelier than he ever had. Though he had consciously made the decision to let Blair go, there were still reminders of her everywhere he turned and the limo was not a place for forgetting. The irony in the situation wasn't lost on him. He didn't miss the fact that he was now truly alone, just like Dan had written in his book and it seemed that again, Humphrey had managed to turn fiction into fact.

He knew he could have probably gone to Lily, but with all of the family drama, he didn't feel like he needed to add to her load. Serena, well, Serena was in the same boat as he was and though misery loves company, he figured he shouldn't remind Serena of all the reasons that they both had to be sad. Nate was busy helping the flavor of the week with the problem of the week and thus would be indisposed. It was probably better that way, Chuck mused. He could just go back to the penthouse and drink scotch with Monkey; another irony that was not lost on him. Of course his only solace after the whole ordeal would be the dog that Humpty Dumpty had so graciously given him.

As soon as he set foot off the elevator, Chuck knew that something was off. Since becoming a Bass, Monkey had made it his job to greet Chuck at the door after long absences, of course long to a dog meant about five hours but Monkey failed to appear. As Chuck made his way further inside, he could hear the growls of Monkey coming from his bedroom and a deep voice yelling at him. Chuck grabbed onto his phone, ready to dial security as he rounded the corner into the room , but instead of pressing send, his jaw dropped in shock.

"Get off me, you mangy mutt," Jack hollered at Monkey as the dog yanked and nipped at his pant leg.

"Jack?" Chuck managed through his surprise, though the emotion quickly turned to irritation.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Currently, dear nephew," Jack spat, "I'm being eaten alive by your flea bitten excuse for a dog. Could you please get this damn thing off me?"

Chuck looked on and couldn't help but see the humor as Monkey's teeth ripped through the fabric of Jack's suit and then began to sink into his calf. Unsatisfied with the result, Monkey jumped up, placed his front paws on his chest and began to repeatedly jump into his body, seemingly in an attempt to knock him down. Monkey howled in success as he managed to push the elder Bass into the wall of the room and then began an attack on his tie.

Chuck could barely hear Jack's shouts of anguish over his own laughter. He finally calmed down and decided he had let Monkey have enough fun for now.

"Monkey," Chuck commanded, "down."

Monkey reluctantly turned to look at his owner, clearly saying, "I don't want to," with his puppy dog eyes.

"Now," Chuck reiterated.

The dog slowly backed down off of Jack with a whine and assumed a position of sulking in the corner, too upset at his master taking away his new chew toy to rejoice in his return.

"You should get that thing euthanized," Jack snarled as he tried to right his suit and stop the bleeding from the scratch on his leg. "He's a hazard."

"I'll get right on that," Chuck muttered.

"You know I could sue you," Jack threatened. " He freaking attacked me in your home!"

Chuck just shook his head, unfazed by Jack's ludicrous threat.

"By the way," Chuck said suddenly, "Why?"

"Why, what?" Jack retorted grabbing a tissue and using it to blot the blood that had begun to trickle down his leg.

"Are you here? In my home. While I'm gone," Chuck demanded.

"Can't an Uncle just come to check on his favorite nephew?"

"Yes, an uncle can. You, however, can't."

"You wound me," Jack mocked with a smirk on his handsome face.

"Not yet," Chuck retorted with a smirk to rival all others, "but I could let Monkey have another go at it…If you wanted."

At this, Monkey's ears perked up from the corner, just waiting for the signal to attack the unsavory character.

"Ok, Ok," Jack muttered, "Call off the beast."

"I'm here to collect on a favor you owe me."

"Favor," Chuck laughed bitterly "I owe you nothing."

"Oh, but you do owe me," Jack taunted, "I'm the reason you're standing here."

"That's ridiculous," Chuck said losing patience, "Monkey, get hi-"

But Chuck's command was cut off by Jack.

"Fine, but can we continue this conversation away from that beast?"

"Fine," Chuck said, leading them out to the main room. He took his seat on the couch and looked at Jack expectantly as he took his seat opposite him. Jack waited for a moment, twisting his hands and then looking up at Chuck.

"They called me after the accident."

Chuck just stared at him now, a stony expression crossing his handsome features.

"With Blair," Jack explained, eyeing the younger boy has he said _her_ name.

"I know which accident, asshole," Chuck retorted.

"Just clarifying."

"So…" Chuck said, trying to draw out the rest of the story as his mind struggled to make connections. He still couldn't figure out what he owed Jack.

"So," Jack continued, "They called and said you needed blood. And since I have blood, I thought, what the hell?"

"You gave me your blood," Chuck replied, dumbfounded.

"Yes, Chuck," Jack said in an attempt to make light of the situation. "You now have little parts of me running through your veins."

"Why?" Chuck asked, genuinely confused. "If I had died," he mused, "you would have gotten everything."

Jack stared at him for a long moment. He saw the tiredness in Chuck's eyes and remembered all too well the last time he had seen that look-it was right after the deal they had made for the hotel. Right after Chuck had…

"You're family," Jack stated simply, shaking his head of his previous thoughts.

"You hate me," Chuck shot back.

"I don't hate," Jack began, but his denial was cut off by Chuck.

"You _hate _me," Chuck said.

"Ok," Jack relented. "While I may at times appear," Jack trailed off searching for the word.

"Heartless?" Chuck supplied. "Cruel? Uncaring? Evil? Like the Spawn of Satan?"

"I was going to say cold," Jack stated, clearly looking offended as Chuck could only chuckle in disbelief.

"While I may at times appear cold," Jack repeated, despite Chuck's growing laughter, "I don't want you dead."

"Why?" Chuck returned, finally getting his laughter under control.

"You're family," Jack said simply. "Besides, Who would I have had to screw with if you hadn't survived?"

"You'd find someone," Chuck reassured.

"True," Jack pondered. "But it wouldn't be as fun."

Chuck found himself almost smiling at this and shook his head to rid himself of the emotion that felt an awful lot like happiness. That feeling of happiness had been gone from his life for quite sometime and he was even more confused to find its' resurgence in the present company.

"So," Jack began, as he changed the conversation, "Where have you been?"

"London," Chuck answered easily, their previous conversation leaving him to feel less guarded than usual but making a note to check in with the hospital about Jack's confession.

"London, eh? What were you running from this time?"

"Nothing," Chuck replied, his guard going up just slightly.

"I had business to take care of."

"Come on, Chuck," Jack mocked, "What were you doing in London?"

"Nothing," Chuck said definitively, ending the conversation with a curt nod as he got up and strode across the room to the bar.

He carefully poured two glasses of scotch and downed the first quickly. He motioned to Jack to take the second as he reached for the decanter again and poured himself another glass, this one much taller.

Jack filed away the issue for further investigation, making a mental note to see what business ties his nephew had in London as he made his way towards the younger Bass.

Jack picked up the second glass of scotch and swilled it around carefully as he stared at the amber liquid, contemplating his next move and wondering about Chuck's reaction.

"So, have you seen the pics of Blair and the nasty Brooklyn boy who used to screw Serena," Jack baited and then tossed back the amber liquid in one gulp, waiting for the response without meeting Chuck's eyes.

Chuck almost choked on his scotch and in lieu of an answer he slammed his glass down on the counter. He reached around the other man to grab for the bottle, but Jack was quicker and lifted it out of reach.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jack chastised, "I asked a question. No answer. No scotch."

Slowly Chuck clenched and unclenched his jaw as he squeezed onto the glass until his knuckles turned white. He exhaled a breath slowly through his nose and tried to remember what his therapist had said about calming his rage. He took a few more deep breaths, released the glass and then answered.

"Yes," he said in a voice that sounded so much like cold steel that it came out as more of a hiss and echoed strangely in the now quiet room.

"So aren't you going to do something about it?" Jack pressed, ready to hear his nephew's plan to takedown the Brooklynite. Jack knew better than anyone that Chuck had an incredible capacity for revenge.

"I already did," Chuck returned plainly.

"Oh, nephew's got a scheme in the works," Jack taunted as he poured a generous amount of liquid into Chuck's glass and slid it back over to him.

"No scheme," Chuck replied as he picked up the glass and swirled the liquid aimlessly.

"No scheme?" Jack questioned.

Chuck just shook his head and set the glass back on the bar, turning quickly and returning to his previous position on the couch.

Jack followed, still disbelieving his nephew's lack of action.

"It's Blair," Jack stated, as if Chuck could have forgotten. "You wouldn't give up on her. You love her too much to just give her up," Jack said, trying to sound as mocking as he thought he should but knowing he fell short.

Chuck just stared at him sullenly.

"You're wrong."

And now it was Jack's turn to laugh.

"I may be wrong about a lot of things but your love of all things Waldorf is not one of them."

"Not about the loving her," Chuck clarified. "I-I love her too much to hold onto her when she wants out." He paused and took a deep breath. "I don't," Chuck stopped again, placing his head in his hands and staring at the floor as he struggled to find the words to express something that he hadn't even come to terms with himself.

For his part, Jack waited patiently looking on in interest.

"I don't want to become someone she resents," Chuck finished with a sad nod of his head.

"That would be worse than," Chuck finally looked up at Jack but shook his head as he found himself unable to finish the thought.

"Worse than seeing her parade around with someone clearly below her?" Jack offered.

"Yeah," was all Chuck could say.

"Well," Jack said, almost excitedly. "There's only one thing left to do, little nephew,"

Jack smiled as he leaned down and awkwardly patted the younger man's arm.

"What's that?" Chuck said, thoroughly unconvinced and perplexed by Jack's sudden peppiness and his awkward gesture of support.

"Get you drunk, high and then find some Thai strippers. Maybe even throw in a brunch?"

"As much as I'm loving this walk down memory lane, I'd-"

"I'd rather sit at home alone drinking scotch with my dog and feeling sorry for myself?" Jack stated.

Chuck just glared at him with barely controlled rage in his eyes.

"Seriously?" Jack questioned. "You've done that?"

The look on Chuck's face was enough to shut Jack up.

"Ok, sorry. Too far? But I'm not going to let you sit around here and mope. I came here to collect on my favor for saving your ass and that's what I intend to do. I didn't sacrifice my blood so you could waste it sitting around here and turn into the male version of the cat lady."

"Jack," Chuck growled from his position on the couch.

"Let's just get out of here. You're a Bass. Bass men don't sulk."

Chuck shook his head at his uncle but even so he found himself standing up and making his way to his closet.

"And by the way nephew," Jack called from the other room, "I knew if you died I wouldn't get a cent."

Chuck stilled his movements inside the closet as he waited for Jack to continue.

"I knew you made sure that _she_ would get everything."

Chuck grimaced at the revelation as he picked up a clean shirt and deftly began to button it.

"You might think about changing that now…" Jack offered through the door.

Chuck rolled his eyes from the closet as he tucked the shirt in and grabbed a new tie.

"Thanks for looking out for me," he retorted.

"That's what family is for," Jack enthused.

"Hurry up." Jack stated impatiently, "The Thai ladies don't like to be kept waiting!"

Chuck rolled his eyes again and strolled out of the closet and into his bathroom so he could brush his teeth.

"Five minutes," he called back.

"Perfect," Jack replied with a gleam in his eye, "Just perfect."

**A/N: I don't own GG or The Fray. **

**Thanks to 88Mary88, shikasta, bfan, Ladynet, iheartchair, Nick, Blood Red Kiss of Death, pty, TerraBeth, Maribells, and BlairGirlNo1 for reviewing! Also, thanks to anyone who put the story on alerts. I was nervous about having Jack in this chapter but I hope that you can appreciate the interaction and that it was somewhat believable. I don't have a beta so I basically reread the story to myself like 80 times before I post only to find that I've left out stupid parts or spelled something wrong in the end. C'est la vie! But if you want to help…**


	3. Chapter 3

__And I am flawed__

_But I am cleaning up so well_

_I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself_

"Vindicated"

Dashboard Confessional

Chuck had to admit that it had been nice to get out with Jack. For the majority of his life, he hadn't cared what people thought about him or what he did. He was Chuck Bass and no one else had mattered, at least until Blair. And after that, he realized, he had slowly started to change; he hadn't been doing all the things that he used to believe made him _Chuck Bass. _The change wasn't a bad thing, he reflected. It had, in fact, kept him from hooking up with the ever-ready Thai hookers. He had begged off, saying that he wasn't quite sure they were 100% female (which, judging from Jack's swift rendezvous, may have actually been true). But the real reason he had climbed into his limo high and alone was that he wasn't quite ready to be with anyone that wasn't Blair. Though he could admit this to himself, which was no small miracle, there was no way in hell he'd admit it to Jack.

He still had his doubts about Jack and his intentions but he had to admit that he was glad to have him here. It didn't feel right to try to talk to Lily about anything right now and while he loved Nate, well, he didn't offer much in the way of intelligent conversation. And the _other_ people that had frequently occupied his time in previous days, well, they were otherwise occupied-with each other.

Chuck's curiosity had been piqued when Jack had mentioned the blood donation after the accident. Though he usually would have given such a task to his P.I., Chuck had felt an intense need to get out and take control of his life. Add to that, the lack of people to converse with and Chuck found himself waiting for an elevator in the middle of the hospital. Chuck certainly did not relish being in the hospital. He had never had any particularly good experiences in one and this place brought back memories that he'd been trying particularly hard to suppress.

When the elevator arrived, Chuck boarded and quickly pressed the appropriate number. Leaning back against the wall, he sensed that he was not alone. Glancing to his left, he saw a small boy in a pale blue hospital gown, staring back at him. Sparing the boy a smirk, Chuck reached into his pocket to check for any new messages, hoping to avoid conversing with this small child, because though he was changing, he was still Chuck Bass.

"Hey Mister!" the boy said cheerfully.

Clearly the boy hadn't been trained to read social cues.

"Hi," Chuck replied tightly, hoping to end the interaction before it really got off the ground.

"Nice suit," he replied, seemingly ignorant of Chuck's disinterest.

"Thanks."

"My Dad wears suits all the time," the boy said with a grin.

"Really?" Chuck offered without an ounce of real interest.

How long did this elevator take? Chuck thought to himself as he checked to make sure he had pressed the correct button, sighing to see that he had but that they still had another six floors to go.

"Yeah, he's always at the office or on business trips."

God, this kid could not take a hint. Maybe the silent treatment would work?

"He's really important," the boy continued.

Damn, Chuck thought, he's not going to leave me alone.

Chuck muttered a disinterested, "Uh, huh," checking his cell phone.

If he was lucky, maybe the boy would just give up.

"Are you important?" the boy asked, genuine interest in his large brown eyes.

And yet again it seemed luck wasn't on his side these days.

"Excuse me?" Chuck said. Glancing up from his cell to meet the boys deep brown eyes, deep brown eyes that reminded him of someone else's, Chuck waited.

"Are you important?" the boy repeated, his gaze not wavering from Chuck's harsh one.

"You wear suits just like my dad does and he's important."

"Oh," Chuck said, nodding in understanding.

"Are you," the boy repeated, staring at Chuck in fascination, still waiting for an answer.

And for a moment, Chuck paused. There were many times he would have immediately answered with an arrogant, "I'm Chuck Bass," leaving the other party to figure out what that meant. Or perhaps he wouldn't have even acknowledged the young boy's presence to begin with. But again, a lot had changed over the last few years and he found himself standing in this elevator with a boy who couldn't have been more than nine years old and seriously contemplating the question: Was he important?

He used to think his money had made him important, but as he had grown, he realized while it had given him a lot of things, it had certainly not given him the thing he had desired most as a child-his father's love. No, the only time he had felt truly important was when _she_ had made him feel that way. Her love-that was what had made him important. It was what had made him worthwhile and he could only shake his head at the ache in his heart that came with that realization.

He turned slowly and looked just above the young boy's head.

"No," he breathed out, as if the word would strangle him. The collar of his shirt now felt impossibly tight and he reached up to loosen it while glancing down and checking the elevator buttons again.

This had to be the longest elevator ride ever.

"Oh," the boy said with a small nod.

Chuck cleared his throat and found his eyes glued anxiously on the buttons as they neared his floor, hoping that his awkward interactions with the boy had come to an end.

But the boy was not to be deterred.

"My dad is," the boy enthused. "He's the greatest ever! He's coming back from Hong Kong today and bringing me a surprise. And tomorrow, he's going to take me to a baseball game! Do you like baseball?"

"No," Chuck gritted through his teeth, just as the elevator doors opened, not on the floor he had selected Chuck noted, to reveal two very annoyed nurses.

"William," the older one shouted, "Where have you been?"

Chuck turned slowly to the younger boy whose name was apparently William.

For his part, the boy looked unfazed and remained standing firmly in the elevator.

"Answer me, William," the nurse seethed.

"Uh, uh," the boy refused, stomping his foot to emphasize his point.

"William," the nurse began.

"I told you to stop calling me that," the boy said petulantly.

"Will," the younger nurse tried in a gentler tone, emphasizing the use of the name, "Where have you been?"

"Out for a stroll," the boy offered finally with a sly smirk.

Chuck eyes shot back to the older nurse, waiting to see her reaction and was surprised to see her frown melt into a reluctant smile.

"You're not allowed to go on strolls," the nurse spoke sternly, though the smile on her face made her comment unthreatening. "Let's get you to your room."

"Fine," Will replied, rolling his eyes clearly not excited about the prospect.

He walked off the elevator, quickly sticking out his thin arm to prevent the doors from sliding shut. He stood there for a moment, just staring at Chuck. For his part, Chuck could see the frustration returning to the face of the older nurse.

"Nice to meet you Mister," the boy said to Chuck with a glint in his eye that told Chuck he knew exactly how much he was irritating the nurse. And how much he was enjoying it.

"Chuck," he found himself supplying.

"You can call me Chuck."

"Nice to meet you, Chuck," Will amended, now smirking as he walked in a deliberately slow manner towards the older nurse.

"Shall we, my lady," the boy said as he offered her his elbow. She shook her head but took his arm nonetheless and continued down the hall, still walking in slow motion. The nurse turned to cast a knowing smile back at Chuck and the other nurse, as the pair disappeared around the corner.

Chuck found himself standing in the opening of the elevator, still watching the spot that the previous pair had occupied.

"Thanks for bringing him back," the other, younger nurse offered.

Chuck glanced up and for the first time, noticed that she was attractive. Not in a way comparable to Blair, but pretty nonetheless. From his spot on the elevator he could see her nametag: Sarah.

"I didn't bring him back," Chuck said shaking his head.

"Just shared an extremely long elevator ride."

"Oh," Sarah replied with a chuckle, "Sorry, about that. He really latches on to any male he sees. He really misses his father."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be better after he comes by today," Chuck offered as he turned to leave.

"Actually, that's one of the reasons we were looking for him," she said, the tone of her voice making him turn back to face her.

"His dad called," she explained, "He's not going to be able to make it."

"Oh," Chuck replied, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.

"That's too bad."

"Yeah," Sarah agreed, "He always takes it pretty hard."

"Always?" Chuck questioned.

"He hasn't been by in months," she admitted sadly, her voice trailing off at the end.

She shook her head and offered Chuck what he assumed to be her attempt at a happy smile, "Well, you have a good day, sir."

"You, too," he replied distractedly as he stepped back towards the elevator and finally let the doors slide to a close.

As the doors shut, he found himself sagging more than leaning into the glass wall. The elevator dinged, signaling his arrival on his desired floor. He looked out the door but his previous conversation had drained him of the energy to decipher the truth of Jack's claims. He reached out and deliberately pressed the down button.

He could not wait to get out of this hospital.

* * *

><p>After three glasses of scotch, he still couldn't shake his encounter with Will. The boy had reminded him of himself when he was younger, except Chuck couldn't ever remember being that annoying. Still, he kept thinking of the nurse's words: He always takes it pretty hard. Over and over he had imagined the look of disappointment that would spread across his features when he learned that his father would not be bringing him to the baseball game.<p>

For his part, Chuck knew all too well the disappointment of being let down by your father. If only someone had told him not to get his hopes up as a child, maybe he wouldn't have been so crushed when his father had inevitably failed to live up to his promises. More than anything, Chuck wanted to spare Will the same fate.

Slamming his glass onto the bar, he came to a decision. He reached into his pocket feeling for his phone and selecting the proper number he held it to his ear and tapped his fingers on the bar impatiently.

"I need your help."

**A/N: I don't own GG or Dashboard. Let's use the analogy of a bad hair day to describe this chapter. You wake up, you know what you want to do and you try to do it but no matter what you do, it just doesn't work exactly like you want. You finally have to give up and go to work because your boss doesn't really care if your hair doesn't look good. So that's this chapter. It didn't turn out exactly how I wanted, but I couldn't do anything else with it and I just want to get on with it...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own GG, Snow Patrol or anything else that seems familiar...**

All this feels strange and untrue  
>And I won't waste a minute without you<br>My bones ache, my skin feels cold  
>And I'm getting so tired and so old<p>

The anger swells in my guts  
>And I won't feel these slices and cuts<br>I want so much to open your eyes  
>'Cause I need you to look into mine<p>

Tell me that you'll open your eyes

"Open Your Eyes"

Snow Patrol

It had taken all of his charm and perhaps the promise of a significant donation to get the nurses, Sarah and Lisa, to release Will to him for the afternoon. The look on Will's face as they walked into the ballpark had told him that he had made the right decision. His brown eyes had lit up in amazement at the buzz that emanated from the stadium and Chuck couldn't help getting caught up in the boy's excitement.

In his effort to help the boy forget his father's absence, Chuck had neglected one thing: how annoying Will really was. Chuck's assistant had arranged for a Meet and Greet in the locker room before the game. However, Will wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that they instead stand around with all of the other boys and their fathers and wait for their favorite player to glance their way just so they could shove whatever object they had in their face in hopes of an autograph.

Chuck thought it was ridiculous and after an hour's wait, he was about to force Will into the locker room when A-Rod's face appeared from below. Will excitedly grabbed the cap that Chuck had bought him at the gift store and strained his arm towards the super star. Chuck watched as A-Rod took the cap, quickly scribbled his name, gave Will a wink and handed the hat back. Chuck hoped that the boy wouldn't be disappointed in the lack of interaction but Will immediately smashed the hat onto his head and turned to Chuck with the biggest grin that Chuck had ever seen and the hour didn't seem like such a waste after that.

Not only was Will opposed to going to the locker room, he also disapproved of the view from the luxury box that Chuck's assistant had secured.

"I can hardly see the players from here," Will whined for the thousandth time from his plush leather seat.

"Fine," Chuck relented, as a set his glass of scotch down.

"We'll go down to watch the rest of the game."

"Awesome!" Will replied, "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chuck replied dully, wishing the boy could just be happy in the box.

Chuck attempted to use his charm on a pair of girls who were sitting on the baseline behind the dugout. Apparently being a Yankee's fan made one immune to the powers of Bass-persuasion because Chuck and Will found themselves standing in the bleachers by the outfield, staring down at a pair of dingy blue seats, instead of taking in the view from baseline.

Will immediately plopped down, claiming he could see everything much better from there. Chuck glanced around uncomfortably and finally sat down on his chair, his back not relaxing into the seat.

Every few moments Will would turn around and stare at Chuck. As soon as Chuck would meet his gaze, he would quickly avert his eyes.

"What?" Chuck demanded after the fourth time the boy caught his eye.

"Nothing."

"Liar," Chuck taunted.

"Hmph," Will snorted and turned back to the game.

Three minutes later he was at it again.

"What?" Chuck demanded again.

Will hesitated slightly before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"You're not having fun."

"I am, too." Chuck replied automatically.

"Liar."

It seemed he wasn't the only one that knew it.

"Nope. I'm having a great time."

"Liar," Will said meeting Chuck's eyes as he simultaneously gave up on the argument.

The boy was right, Chuck thought, he wasn't having any fun.

"I think you'd have more fun if you just relaxed," Will said without sparing Chuck a glance.

"I am relaxed," Chuck denied.

"Li-" Will began.

"Don't" Chuck growled.

"Fine. Just…,"Will started, "Don't sit there like that. It's awkward."

"Awkward? Chuck Bass is never awkward." Chuck said condescendingly.

"Well, I don't know who _Chuck Bass_ is, but if he acts like you are acting at a baseball game, then he _is_ awkward."

Chuck rolled his eyes, but did have to admit he didn't exactly feel at ease in this place.

"So, what do you suggest," Chuck relented.

"First of all, take off your coat. No one wears a suit to a Yankee's game," Will criticized, "Not even Chuck Bass."

"Not even Chuck Bass," Chuck mimicked.

"Fine," he muttered as he took off his coat and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt.

"I sure am having fun now," he mocked.

Will just laughed.

"You should probably lean back, you look a little…uptight."

"I'm not uptight," Chuck defended.

"I'm perfectly comfortable," Chuck reiterated.

"Suit yourself, you're the one that's awkward," Will snarked.

Chuck begrudgingly leaned back in the Chair stiffly.

"Better?" he asked sarcastically.

"Whatever," Will laughed, turning back to the game.

They sat in silence for a few moments and Chuck felt himself relaxing a bit as he soaked in the game and the sounds of the crowd. He had to admit, it was more comfortable than his previous position.

As the afternoon went on, Chuck actually began enjoying the game. Hanging out with Will wasn't much different than hanging out Archibald. In fact, he was actually pretty fun to hang out with when he wasn't hell bent on annoying you. Chuck even managed to snag a ball that had come flying over the fence, narrowly missing Will's face. The look of admiration that crossed the boy's eyes as Chuck handed over the ball dumbfounded Chuck.

"What?" Chuck asked, impatiently, not liking the boy's intense gaze.

"That was so cool," he breathed.

"Really, it was nothing," Chuck said.

"No," Will disagreed, "It was awesome. Did your dad teach you to catch like that?"

And Chuck's enjoyment of the afternoon ended just like that.

"No," he snapped in a tone that signaled there was to be no further discussion of his father.

The silence that followed was neither soothing nor pleasant. Each could feel the electricity sparking off of Chuck at the mention of his father.

"My dad never played catch with me," Will offered reluctantly without looking to Chuck.

Chuck felt his shoulders inadvertently relax at this comment.

"Mine, didn't either," Chuck admitted after a long silence.

"He always says he will, but he never does anything he says he will," Will said sadly.

"Mine always said it wasn't worth the time when I'd never be any good."

"Not worth the time?" Will repeated, "Was he crazy?"

At that, Chuck actually laughed.

"You know, Will, he might have been. He might have been."

"If he'd have seen the way you caught that ball, he'd know how good you are," Will continued.

"Doubtful," Chuck said, "But thanks."

Will just grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring up into the sky and taking a deep breath as he held his ball to the sky, admiring it.

Chuck shook his head and found leaning back and soaking in the rays of the sun as well, eyes closed, hands behind head.

"Thanks," came Will's voice barely above a whisper.

"No problem." Chuck answered easily.

"It's been so long since…"

Chuck waited and when he didn't finish, he cracked open one eye to look at the boy.

"Since?"

"Since it seemed like somebody…" Will said reluctantly, "like somebody, cared…"

Chuck felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Sarah and Lisa care about you," Chuck offered.

"They don't count," Will contended.

"They're paid to."

"True," Chuck agreed jokingly.

"What about your friends?"

"Friends?" Will question, dubiously.

"Friends," Chuck repeated. "People your own age that you hang out with…?"

"I know what a friend is, dumbass."

Chuck just smiled and waited for his answer.

"I mean, I guess I have a few," Will admitted.

"But it seems like they'd rather hang out with each other than with me right now."

Silence again.

"Your dad cares," Chuck said on impulse, almost choking on the words.

He wondered if he should have even said it. He knew that if someone had told him that about Bart, he would have laughed. But he also knew he had longed for someone to say those words and convince him that they were true.

"Maybe," Will replied quietly, "Maybe, not."

And there was nothing Chuck could say to that. So he just nodded his head in agreement, knowing the feeling all too well.

* * *

><p>They returned to the hospital later that evening, Chuck's arms loaded down with the three bags of souvenirs they had acquired (Will had insisted on buying something for every nurse on the floor) while Will used both hands to hold onto his humongous ice cream cone.<p>

"Hold the door!" rang out through the lobby.

Will, always loving a good elevator ride, slid one sticky hand out to stop the doors from closing.

Chuck sighed, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was ready to get out of his suit and have something harder to drink than the Bud Light they offered at the stadium.

"Thanks," he heard an all too familiar voice breathe as it rushed into the elevator.

"No problem," Will offered as he went back to licking his cone.

Chuck slowly opened his eyes as her perfume filled his nostrils, ripping open every memory that he had tried to seal after their last conversation. His insides stung.

He stared in her direction as he waited for her to note his presence.

"Waldorf," he drawled after a moment and he could see the sharp intake of breath as she turned and to meet his gaze.

"Chuck?" she questioned taking in his current state, bags and all.

"What are you doing here?"

Chuck was about to answer when another voice broke through the silence.

"Hold the door!"

And before either Chuck or Blair could react, Will had stopped the doors and waited happily for their new riding companion, licking away at his cone.

"Thanks," came another voice that Chuck knew, this one much less welcome than the previous.

"Dan," Blair said.

Chuck thought her voice sounded slightly strangled voice, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Hey, I came as soon as I got your message," he said, leaning up to peck her on the cheek.

Chuck felt his stomach clench as he repressed the urge to punch Humpty Dumpty in front of the kid.

"Humphrey," Chuck acknowledged, his insides seething.

"Chuck?" Dan questioned, suddenly looking between Blair and Chuck and back again.

"I'm just dropping Will off," Chuck said, gesturing towards the boy with his free arm. He didn't miss the slight sigh of relief that Dan released as he reached down and picked up Blair's hand.

Chuck closed his eyes to shield himself from the sight.

"Will?" Blair asked, turning a critical eye to the boy.

"Hey," Will said distractedly as he began to crunch on his cone.

"Hello," Blair said slowly, looking from Chuck back to Will in confusion.

"We're…friends," Chuck said opening his eyes to look at Blair.

He glanced down carefully and quickly averted his eyes to the elevator buttons.

Six flights to go and Dan was still holding her hand.

"Dorota's having her baby," Blair offered, after a few moments of silence.

At the word baby, images of his car ride with Blair flashed through his mind. Those wonderful moments when they'd both been planning their future and the baby's future.

Chuck could only nod.

"It's a girl," Blair continued, a smile on her face.

"You'll have to pass on my congratulations," Chuck said with what he hoped came across as a genuine smile. He really was happy for Dorota; she had always seemed to see the best in him for whatever good that did him now.

Blair nodded slowly in response.

"You should come by and tell her yourself," Blair reasoned.

"I know she'd love to see you."

"Maybe," Chuck offered half-heartedly, not wanting to intrude on such a personal event with someone who was so close to Blair, especially when he seemed so far from her.

"Really though," Blair persisted.

"After you drop off…Will…you should come by."

"Blair-" Chuck opened his mouth as he began to protest but shut it as he saw Humphrey elbow her slightly in the stomach.

He could see the rage, welling up in her eyes and he almost felt sympathy for Dan for making such a pedestrian move. Almost.

Blair glared at Dan and Chuck waited for the explosion.

"I'm sure Chuck doesn't really care about seeing other people's babies," Dan reasoned, trying to soften Blair's expression with a smile.

And for the first time since Humphrey had set foot on that elevator, Chuck was surprised.

Blair's expression did soften. She even smiled at the donut.

"You're probably right," Blair relented and leaned her had back against the wall.

Strange, Chuck thought, that didn't seem like her at all but lately, he had often wondered how well he knew her.

He glanced up to catch her eye, trying to see if he had really misread the situation but as soon as he caught her eyes, she was inspecting the toe of her shoe.

Maybe he had never really known her because the girl that was in front of him now barely resembled the fiery woman he had fallen in love with.

Chuck sighed, leaning back and checking the buttons on the wall again.

Three more floors, Chuck thought as he closed his eyes.

He had been wrong before.

This was definitely the longest elevator ride ever.


	5. Chapter 5

We need to feel breathless with love  
>And not collapse under its weight<br>I'm gasping for the air to fill  
>My lungs with everything I've lost<p>

"It's Beginning to Get to Me"

Snow Patrol

Blair threw his hand down in disgust as soon as Chuck and the boy exited the elevator, finally feeling like she could breathe.

"Could you have been more obvious?" Blair seethed at Dan.

"Excuse me," Dan asked, feigning confusion.

"Holding my hand in front of him? You should have just lifted your leg and peed on me in the elevator, Blair raged. "It's what you meant by it."

"I wasn't 'marking my territory,' Blair," Dan tried again, annoyed at the accusation even if it were somewhat true.

Blair just tapped her foot in annoyance. She hadn't seen him since their last conversation. She had known it would be hard but she hadn't expected…that.

He looked fine, like it didn't even bother him that she was with someone else.

When Dan had grabbed her hand, she had wanted to shake it off. She remembered all too well what it had felt like to see Chuck with someone else. But she was also Blair Waldorf. Letting go of Dan's hand in front of Chuck would have shown some kind of weakness that Chuck would have responded to immediately like a shark to blood. She wasn't sure what she'd do with that.

She had told Chuck that she wasn't in love with him and she had meant it. If she was honest, she hadn't been in love with him for a long time. She simply loved him. Loved him in a way that she couldn't put into words. It didn't have a beginning or an end, it just was. The kind of love she felt for Chuck, it was unlike anything she had experienced and she knew without a doubt that she'd never experience it again. No, she wasn't in love with Chuck Bass-what she felt was far beyond that.

Which was why leaving him behind had been so hard. Honestly, she rationalized; it was better for him in the long run. Everyone was finally getting a chance to see him as the man she had always known he was. She didn't want to mess that up. He was a better man and it was because he wasn't with her.

That truth had been hard to accept: She turned the men in her life dark. Even Humphrey was evidence of that. Not even Dan could be trusted to stay on the straight and narrow path when it came to her, just look at what he'd done with the video at her wedding?

No, she wasn't willing to risk Chuck's progress for her happiness.

So she'd let Dan hold her hand in the elevator.

"Blair," Dan asked, noticing the far off look in her eyes.

"What," she snapped at Humphrey.

"Do I have a reason to mark my territory?" he repeated.

"No," Blair said, plastering on a fake smile.

She really wished he'd notice. But despite how well he knew her, he could never tell when her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"But if you ever elbow me again," she threatened as the elevator door opened, "it'll be the last thing you do."

With those words, she stalked off the elevator, leaving a very confused Dan in her wake.

* * *

><p>"Who was that?" Will asked curiously as he and Chuck settled into his room.<p>

"Huh," Chuck asked distractedly, placing the bags on the floor by the bed.

"The hot girl in the elevator," Will said with a smirk.

"She's," Chuck struggled to find a word that fit what Blair was, "a friend."

"I wish my friends were that hot," Will joked.

"No," Chuck cautioned, "you don't."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Chuck muttered as he leaned back in the chair.

Will reached down and grabbed the baseball that Chuck had caught him from one of the bags and set it on top of his nightstand as Chuck settled into one of the two chairs in the room.

"She has awful taste," Will said, inspecting the ball from as he plopped onto the bed.

"Excuse me," Chuck's protective instinct rising as he bristled at Will's comment.

He wondered if that would ever go away.

"That guy," Will said with a shrug. "He's disgusting."

"Oh," Chuck said, settling down with a smirk.

"I mean, his clothes are awful and don't get me started on his haircut. I think Big Bird could get lost in there."

Chuck felt the laughter build in his chest and couldn't hold it in any longer.

"His hair is pretty awful," Chuck agreed through his laughs.

Will smiled, happy that Chuck found him so entertaining.

"What does she see in him?" Will asked dubiously.

Chuck's good mood immediately sobered as Will poked a metaphorical needle into his small balloon of happiness. Because the question Will asked was one that he had been avoiding. What did she see in him? What could Humphrey offer her that he couldn't or hadn't?

"I don't know," Chuck mused slowly as he reached for the nightstand and began tossing the ball between his hand as he contemplated the question.

"He makes her happy, I guess."

"If that is what you look like when you're happy, then I don't ever want to be happy," Will remarked.

"Why?" Chuck asked with a smirk.

"She looked miserable. Hot," he conceded, "but miserable."

Chuck shook his head. Had she really looked miserable? He hadn't really noticed. He'd been too busy avoiding looking in her direction for more than five consecutive seconds to see if she had looked happy.

"So, she's really just your friend?" Will probed, pulling Chuck out of his thoughts.

Chuck sighed, nothing that Will was back in what he now referred to as Annoy Mode.

"Yeah," Chuck said. "We're just friends."

"Did you ever want to be something more," Will pressed.

Chuck took a deep breath and set the ball back on the table as he was reminded of a time in this very hospital where he had started to ask her for so much more. He thought of a ring, _the _ring that now sat in a case at Harry Winston. He thought of car ride where they had only briefly planned their life together.

"Once," Chuck said, the memories strangling him.

"What happened?"

'_I'm not in love with you.'_

"She didn't feel the same," Chuck managed.

"She's crazy," Will replied.

"Why's that? Because she'd rather date a guy with nappy hair than me?"

"Yes," Will said seriously, "and no."

Chuck turned and raised his eyebrows at Will in question.

"She's crazy because you're the best guy I know and I can't imagine she could do any better," Will said, giving Chuck an apprehensive smile.

"I guess she doesn't agree," Chuck said, clearing his throat in an attempt to rid the emotion from his voice, his heart dropping at his own declaration.

"Her loss," Will said, reaching over and awkwardly patting his shoulder.

His words echoed through Chuck's head.

If it was her loss, then why did he feel like he was the one losing everything?

* * *

><p>Chuck had left not long after that, ready to get home and forget the day, at least the parts that had involved Blair and Dan. On his way out, though, he did make his way to the nursery.<p>

He glanced around quickly, making sure that no one would see him as he peered into the sea of babies, trying to pick out Dorota's youngest. She wasn't hard to spot, looking just like her older sister, even just hours old. He smiled at her sadly through the glass as he tried not to imagine Blair's baby instead.

Was it a boy or a girl? What would Blair have named the child? Would the child call him Uncle Chuck? Would the baby have her eyes or mischievous smile?

He shook his head at the thoughts. The "What if Game," otherwise known as a cruel form of self-inflicted torture that he had often indulged in lately.

What if she had never gotten into his limo? What if he had never listened to his father? What if he had told her he loved her at the White Party? What if Bart hadn't died? What if he had never slept with Jenny and she had never gone to Paris?

What if they had never gotten in that car?

What if she never came back?

He realized now, that s_he_ was gone. The loss hitting him so sharply that every breath felt like a crushing blow. The woman that he loved, that had stolen his heart the moment she had stepped on that stage, wasn't there anymore. She hadn't been for sometime. She had loved him and once called herself his family but that was gone, too; or maybe it had never really been there in the first place.

"Watch out for her," he whispered through the glass as a tear slid down his cheek. His hand reached up to swipe away the traitorous drop as he turned quickly and walked back to the elevator.

A pair of dark eyes darted from the spot that Chuck had just occupied back to the elevator and the owner only shook his head.

* * *

><p>"I'm not in the mood," Chuck groaned as he walked in the door and found a guest sitting on the couch perusing a piece of paper.<p>

"Not in the mood for what, nephew?"

"Whatever game you're playing," Chuck groused.

"Tell me what you want and leave."

Jack smiled at Chuck's ruffled attitude.

"Someone's in a bad mood today," he mocked.

"In need of a Thai hooker?"

"Jack," Chuck warned.

"Ok, ok," Jack relented.

"I just came to let you know that I know your secret."

"My secret?" Chuck questioned.

"Your plan," Jack revised, "For Blair. I know."

"I told you I don't have a plan," Chuck said frustrated as he walked to the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch and downed it without a second thought.

"No plan," Jack asked.

"Then why would pay the dowry?" Jack said, deciding now was the time to show his Ace.

Chuck's hand froze on the edge of the bar.

"How'd you find out?" he tone cold.

"Doesn't matter," Jack placated. "All that matters is I know and now I can help you."

"You can't," Chuck said, his face hard as he turned to Jack.

"I don't need help."

"That's where you're wrong. If Blair knew you paid the dowry," Jack began.

"Stop," Chuck bellowed.

"It doesn't matter what Blair would or wouldn't do if she found out about the dowry because she's not going to find out," Chuck threatened.

"Do you understand?"

"Nephew," Jack began in protest.

"No," Chuck reiterated.

"Blair isn't going to find out. Period. Now get out."

Chuck poured another glass of scotch and took the bottle and the glass with him as he walked out of the room.

"Chuck," Jack tried again but was cut off by the slamming of a door.

Jack slowly turned, picked up the piece of paper he had been holding and walked out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I don't own GG or Tyrone Wells and Jason Reeves. I do, however, own the very bad afternoon I had which is why you get this update today and not on Thursday...so you should review. It'd make me smile. **

You're not an angel and I'm not the perfect man  
>But you know I love you,<br>So why won't you let me in?

Give me one reason to stay and I'll stay  
>Give me one reason to leave and I'll leave<br>I don't need you to be me  
>I'll be just fine being free<p>

I'll be just fine

You're like a shadow that I cannot hold onto  
>And I'm not a prison<br>And I cannot tie you down

Give me one reason to stay and I'll stay  
>Give me one reason to leave and I'll leave<br>I don't need you to be me  
>I'll be just fine being free<p>

I'll be just fine

I'll be alright  
>Without you on my side<br>I'll still sleep at night

Don't make me have to

"Give Me One Reason"

Tyrone Wells featuring Jason Reeves

"I just thought you should know," said the stoic voice on the other end of the phone.

"Thank you," Blair said tersely, as she tossed her phone onto the counter along with the envelope that had arrived moments earlier.

"How dare he!" Blair raged.

Grabbing her bag, she stalked out the door.

"How dare who?" Dan asked in confusion, coming out of his room to see what had caused all the commotion but Blair was already gone.

He sighed and turned to back to his room but the envelope caught the corner of his eye. He carefully made his way to the counter and picked it up and carefully slid out the folded paper.

As his eyes scanned the paper, they grew wider taking in the information slowly. When he finished reading, he stared at the paper in stunned silence, finding no words for what he was feeling at the moment.

He carefully put the letter back into the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and rushed out the door, letting it slam behind him.

* * *

><p>Somewhere between 1 and 2 AM and his 7th or 8th glass of scotch, he had pulled out all of the pictures of he and Blair and let the memories flood him. It had been so long since he had let his thoughts wander to their time together.<p>

He had fallen asleep around four, holding onto a picture of Blair. She had given it to him when he was going to be gone on a business trip. She had given him the photo and then leaned up on to her tippy toes so that her lips were just a breath away from his ear.

'_Whenever you miss me, look at this picture and know that I will always love you.'_

On the back of the picture she had scrawled a single word "Always."

When Chuck awoke, he found the picture still grasped in his hand and released it has if it had burned him. He slowly picked up the photos and memorabilia and placed them back in the shoebox shoving it carefully into the top shelf of his closet.

Chuck sauntered out of his room, holding his head in his hand. Last night had not gone well. The reminder of Blair being with Dan would have been enough to depress him for the night, add to that his conversation with Will about Bart and he had known that his night would night be spent peacefully. The conversation with Jack was the final nail in the coffin.

His head ached and he momentarily contemplated the decanter that sat enticingly on the bar but shook his head and filled a glass with water instead.

Maybe he should give up alcohol for a while, he mused to himself. It hadn't done him many favors lately.

He was shook out of his thoughts by the sound of his door slamming.

"What the hell, Archibald?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Bass?" came an incensed voice, a voice that he knew but certainly did not belong to Nathaniel.

"Blair?" Chuck wondered aloud.

"What were you thinking, Basshat?" she shouted as she came around the corner in a fury.

He sighed, set the glass of water down and turned to face the wrath of Waldorf.

"Good morning to you," Chuck drawled instead of answering her accusation.

He was going to kill Jack.

"Stop trying to avoid it," she raged.

"You did it."

"Did what?" he asked innocently.

She reached out and hit him on the chest with the papers in her hand.

"You paid the dowry," she accused.

"I did," Chuck replied calmly.

"Are you done yelling?"

"Not even close," Blair spat.

"Fine," Chuck shrugged and walked to the couch and sat down, waiting for her continued rant.

She grumbled to herself as she followed him and took her place in front of the couch, her hands shaking with irritation.

He was surprising her. She had at least expected a denial or at the very least for him to defend his actions. But he didn't. He just sat there, tired honey colored eyes staring up at her, waiting.

And she felt all the energy drain from her body. She sank down to sit on top of the coffee table in front of him and clasped her hands together as she nervously spun the ruby ring around her finger.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever and Blair finally decided to speak, not being able to stand it anymore.

"Why'd you do it," she said as she stared down at her hands, still spinning the ring.

"Why'd you pay it?"

Spin.

Spin.

Spin.

She finally looked up to see if he had heard her.

"Why do you think?" he said dejectedly.

And it was just as she had feared.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself so she could say the next words, the words she knew would cut him but had to be said.

"I told you I wasn't in love with you anymore," she whispered into the stillness, feeling the slices through her own heart as the words fell from her mouth.

He laughed audibly and she glanced up from her shoes in surprise a question in her eyes.

"You think that's a conversation I could easily forget?" he said, shaking his head, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

At the pain in his eyes, she quickly began to glance around the room, looking for anything to distract her from the aching in her own heart.

"You didn't do it because you thought we'd be together?" she said in a strained whisper, her eyes never meeting his. Not because she didn't want to but because she was afraid of what she'd see there. Or, more accurately, what she wouldn't see there.

"No. I did it because I love you," his voice catching on the last few words.

_'But can you say it twice? No I'm serious, say it twice!'_

_'I love you, I love you, that's three, four, I love you.'_

She blinked back the tears at the memory. She had waited for so long for those words from this man. IT had seemed like she would never hear them and now she feared this would be the last time. She blinked again taking a deep breath as she ventured to glance up at him, this time, trying to figure him out but his eyes were focused on his hands.

His words were left hanging in the air, threatening to crush them both.

He shrugged.

"I wanted you to be happy," he said simply, finally meeting her gaze with a sheepish smile.

She felt her heart tug.

"Even if it wasn't with me."

'_Because I love her and I can't make her happy.'_

"Oh," was all she could manage.

Her phone burst through the silence and she glanced down.

Humphrey, she thought, closing her eyes to calm her emotions.

"I have to go," she said, reluctantly reaching for her purse.

"You know the way out," he said as he stood up and walked back to his room.

She stood for a moment glancing around the room, a place she had once spent more time than her own home. She now felt like a stranger and the idea choked her. Rising to her feet, she quickly left the room, tears streaking down her face as she left.

Chuck stood with his back against his bedroom door and slid to the floor as the tears fell from his eyes. This time, he didn't bother wiping them away.

* * *

><p>He emerged from his room hours later when he heard the front door shut.<p>

Rounding the corner, he came face to face with Jack.

"I told you not to do it," he said tiredly.

"Not to do what," Jack asked.

"I told you not to tell Blair."

"Chuck, she needed to know," Jack reasoned.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter anyway," Chuck muttered as a he headed to the kitchen.

"Why doesn't it matter, Chuck?"

"It didn't change anything. She's still with Humphrey and I'm still," he trailed off.

"Alone and miserable," Jack ribbed.

"Yeah," the younger man lamented.

Jack stood for a moment, thinking.

"Want to get drunk?" he offered.

"Not this time."

"Pool?" Jack offered.

Chuck looked at him doubtfully but nodded in agreement.

Jack meticulously set up the balls and then handed Chuck a stick, signaling to him that he should break.

Chuck reluctantly took the stick and lined up his shot. The cue ball crashed into the others, sending them sliding in every direction. The 10 ball sank into the pocket furthest away.

Chuck lined up the ball again, this time slamming the 14 ball the corner pocket.

"Nice, nephew," Jack encouraged.

Chuck shrugged and sauntered around the table looking for his next shot.

He was leaned in, aiming the cue ball at the 13 when Jack interrupted.

"You're wrong."

Chuck looked at the table in confusion.

"You see a better shot," he challenged.

"Not about pool; About Blair. About the dowry."

Chuck rolled his eyes taking aim and letting the cue ball fly.

"How am I wrong," Chuck asked as he watched the ball veer to the side.

"You said it didn't change anything," Jack said, taking a moment to find his shot and aim.

"Yeah, so," Chuck pressed.

"Well, you're wrong, nephew," he said, straightening himself as the ball sank gently into its' intended target.

"Because the truth," he stated, staring intently into Chuck's eyes, "it changes everything."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I don't own GG or Vertical Horizon...**

He's everything you want  
>He's everything you need<br>He's everything inside of you  
>That you wish you could be<br>He says all the right things  
>At exactly the right time<br>But he means nothing to you  
>And you don't know why<p>

You're waiting for someone  
>To put you together<br>You're waiting for someone to push you away  
>There's always another wound to discover<br>There's always something more you wish he'd say

"Everything You Want"

Vertical Horizon

The elevator ride down from Chuck's had been particularly embarrassing. She had tears streaming down her face and she hadn't been wearing waterproof mascara. This would have been fine, except she wasn't in the elevator alone. She was standing against the corner of the elevator, quietly crying when the doors slid open and one of Chuck's employees entered the lift.

She momentarily glanced up, sniffling as she did, readying herself to rip the head off the bellboy if he dare speak. But for all of his shortcomings (which seemed to be less and less these days), Chuck had trained his staff well. The man barely gave Blair a second look, quietly pressing the button to shut the doors and waiting for the elevator to resume its' decline.

Blair attempted to calm herself now that she had an audience, but the damn tears wouldn't quit coming. The most troubling part was that she couldn't figure out why.

Why the hell was she in an elevator crying?

She cleared her throat and shook her head in defiance of the tears. Lifting her gaze, she stared straight ahead into the mirrored walls of the elevator, trying to regain her composure.

She glanced down at the papers still in her hands, more crumpled than they had been previously. Her thoughts shifted to their contents and what they had told her. These thoughts led her mind back to Chuck's penthouse and the look on his face when he told her he did it all because he loved her and her eyes began to water again.

Damn that Basshole!

She squeezed them shut tightly, hoping to force the tears back into her eyes by shear power of will. No such luck. Instead of a retreat, as she had demanded, the tears began to sneak past her lids, cascading down her face and falling helplessly to the floor.

A slight cough came from the corner of the elevator occupied by the bellboy. Blair lifted her eyes enough to glare at the innocuous creature but instead found herself facing his outstretched hand. Clenched in it were several tissues.

She glanced at his hand questioningly and then slowly stretched her hand to grab the offering. Slowly, she blotted away the inky black marks that had marred her ivory complexion. Blair was just finishing when the doors dinged to signal their arrival. Without a word, the bellboy slipped out.

"Thank you," Blair called out weakly, still inside of the elevator.

The young man turned around and offered a reassuring smile.

"No problem, miss."

Blair straightened her back and set out of the building on her way to meet Dan. Still distracted from her previous encounter, Blair ran headfirst into a plaid covered chest.

"Sorry," she mumbled without looking up.

"Blair?"

She stopped dead in her path and turned slowly to face Humphrey.

What the hell was he doing outside of the Empire, Blair wondered.

"Dan," she said, unable to hide the disappointment at seeing him at the moment. "What are you doing here," her voice sounded tired and defeated even to her own ears.

If he noticed her tone, he didn't let on.

"Well, you didn't answer your phone and I was already on this side of town so I thought I'd come by and see Chuck….see how he's doing with…everything."

Blair looked at him dubiously, not fooled for a second.

"You thought you'd come by and see Chuck?" she repeated a challenge in her voice as she felt her heart rate increase.

"Yeah, I just thought he might need a fri-" Dan began.

"Chuck doesn't need anything from you," Blair snapped staring menacingly. "Drop the lie. You were following me," she accused, venom on her tongue.

"So what if I was," Humphrey retorted. "What were _you_ doing at Chuck's?"

"You don't get to follow me," Blair seethed. "And you don't get to know everything that I do."

"I'm your boyfriend," Dan tried, softening his tone. "Don't you think I deserve to know why you ran out of the loft and straight to your ex?"

Blair remained unmoved, her arms crossed over her chest, her resolve not budging an inch.

"Blair, he's an ass. He lies, cheats and steals and doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants," he said, reaching out to stroke her hair. "I just, I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Don't talk about things you know nothing of," Blair spat, leaning away from his touch. "You don't know Chuck and you certainly don't know anything about our relationship."

"Blair," Dan said pleadingly, reaching out again to catch her face but retracting his hand when he saw the expression that crossed her delicate features.

"Blair," he tried again.

But she wasn't listening to him. Her mind was stuck on something that Dan had said.

"_He lies, cheats and steals and doesn't care who he hurts as long as he gets what he wants."_

Her head snapped up and she looked Dan directly in the eyes.

"You say Chuck is such a bad guy because he lies and cheats without a thought about who he hurts," Blair stated.

"Yeah and I just want to pro-" Dan started but was immediately cut off.

"Well, so do I," Blair said firmly and a challenge rang from her voice.

"Am I a bad person?"

"Blair," Dan protested. "You are nothing like Chuck."

"No," Blair refuted. "I'm _exactly_ like him. I lie, cheat and steal to get what I want. I don't care who I hurt as long as I get what I want," she admitted. "Look what I did to Louis. Look what I did to Serena-what we did to Serena. Hell, look at what I did to Chuck," she sighed shaking her head.

"I'm just like him," she repeated, glancing up again to meet his eyes, begging him to see the truth.

"You're not," Dan denied.

"But I am," Blair shot back. "Why can't you accept that?"

"Because," Dan stuttered, shaking his head. He slowly looked up at her, desperation in his eyes.

"Because I love you."

All the air that was left in Blair's lungs left her in that moment. She hadn't expected that answer and she certainly hadn't expected what she felt at his admission.

"I love you, Blair," he repeated. "And that's why you're not like Chuck. I love you and you are good and loyal and caring. And I love you," his voice whisper soft on the last words.

Blair stared at him for a moment, realization dawning on her.

"Would you love me if I was like Chuck?" she asked, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the noise of the Manhattan street.

"But you're not," Dan rebutted tenderly touching her arm. "That's the point."

"But I am," Blair replied defiantly, looking at him with sadness in her eyes. "I'm exactly like him and if you can't see that…" she trailed off. "Well, if you can't see the both the good and bad in me, then you don't really love me."

"But I do," Dan pled.

"You think you do, but it's an illusion," Blair stated, gently removing his hand from her arm. "A work of fiction."

He stared at her, the confusion and pain evident on his face.

"You fell in love with Clair Carlyle. I think I did, too. It was nice to have someone see only the good in you. But the truth is…that's just not who I am and it's not who I want to be."

"Who do you want to be? I can love whoever you are," Dan proclaimed.

"Blair Waldorf," she replied.

"I don't want to be anyone other than Blair Waldorf."

She turned slowly and walked away, leaving Dan to stare after her in disbelief.

* * *

><p>"Go away," Chuck drawled into the darkness of his penthouse. He had heard the elevator moments ago and was not ready for any guests, especially considering the last few that had come by.<p>

He heard the clicking of heels across the marble and couldn't figure out who the hell it was. There was no way that Blair had come back. In fact, it seemed Blair was never coming back.

As he reached down for his glass of scotch (giving it up had gone out the window after his encounter with Blair), he heard a throat clear behind him.

"Charles."

He almost dropped his glass in surprise.

Slowly turning his body toward the intruder, his gaze was met by the imposing figure of the Waldorf matriarch.

"Eleanor?" he questioned.

"I haven't seen you since the…" he trailed off as she met his eyes, causing him to stop. They both knew the last time they saw each other.

Without a moment's pretense, Eleanor took the seat across from him.

"Scotch," Eleanor ordered sharply. "Three fingers."

Chuck shook his head, still trying to figure out the reason for his visitor as he retrieved a glass and poured her drink.

He handed her the tumbler and watched in apt fascination as she tossed the drink back before holding the empty glass to him signaling her desire for a refill. His lips quirked at her action but he quickly filled her glass again. This time she took a long, slow slip before setting it on the table and clearing her throat.

"I came to say thank you," Eleanor began, staring at him intently.

"For?" Chuck asked in confusion as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Paying the dowry," she replied crisply.

"It was nothing," Chuck said, annoyed that he had to talk about it again. He really was going to kill Jack for outing his secret.

"It would have bankrupt the family," she needlessly elaborated, "so thank you." Their eyes met and he struggled to read the emotion in them.

As he stared at Blair's mother, he could see the gratitude in her eyes but it was mixed with something else. Something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. For all that had happened, though, it seemed that Blair was closer to her mother than ever before and for that he was eternally grateful. Blair deserved someone to be devoted to her, no matter the cost.

Chuck nodded his understanding, trying to find words to express how he felt. He settled for the simplest truth he could manage.

"I'd do anything for her."

"I know," Eleanor confirmed quietly. "I know."

The pair sat in Chuck's penthouse in silence for a few moments, both nursing their scotch.

As he saw their reflections in the glass, he thought about what a funny pair they made, he and Eleanor. He was the ultimate New York playboy with his new money and good looks. She was his polar opposite, all old money and society ways. But they shared a bond: undeniable love of the same woman. Both had failed her in countless ways, but both also loved her more than words could say.

"I'm surprised she told you," Chuck said, finally breaking the peaceful silence when his glass was empty. Blair really had changed if she was confiding pieces of information like the payment of her dowry.

"Excuse me," Eleanor said, glancing over at Chuck with raised eyebrows.

"About the dowry," he explained. "I'm surprised she told you."

"She didn't tell me," Eleanor stated simply.

"Then how did you," Chuck interjected unable to wipe the surprise from his face.

"_I_ told _her_," Eleanor emphasized.

Chuck stared at the older woman in shock, trying to clear his head. He could have sworn that Eleanor had just said she was the one that told Blair about the dowry but that was impossible. Jack had certainly gone to new lengths by involving Blair's mom in his ploy.

"How did you find out," he asked curiously, waiting expectantly for his suspicions to be confirmed.

"Louis."

Too bad that wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"When?"

"I suppose it was right after you came to him. He said that you paid the dowry but that you didn't want Blair to know."

"That worked out well," Chuck muttered, raking his fingers through his already mussed hair. He had actually thought he'd been wrong about Louis after the meeting in England; clearly he had been right before.

"She needed to know," Eleanor stated firmly as she gazed over at Chuck.

"Why? What good does it do? It doesn't change anything," Chuck drawled, "She's still with Humphrey."

"But you didn't pay the dowry so she wouldn't be with Daniel," Eleanor reminded him as gently as she could. Of course gentle wasn't really a word in her vocabulary so it came out more like a hard slap on the back instead of the gentle comfort she had meant it.

"You did it so she could be happy."

Chuck shook his head and placed it between his hands in frustration. Why did people have to keep reminding him?

"Charles," Eleanor said into the stillness. "You did it for the best reason possible and even if gets you nowhere," she said looking down slowly, cutting herself off as what appeared to be a tear escaped her eye. He must have been mistaken though, because Eleanor Waldorf-Rose didn't cry.

She paused a moment and then looked up, meeting him dead in the eye and he could see the tears shining and threatening to break free.

"I'm glad that my daughter has someone that loves her like that," she paused a moment and then looked up, meeting him square in the eye. He could see the tears shining and threatening to break free, "I couldn't pick a better man for her."

"Unfortunately for me," Chuck lamented turning his eyes away, "it's not your choice."

"No," Eleanor agreed staring after him, "But just like you, I can make sure she knows what she would be missing out on."

"She's not missing out on anything, without me," Chuck disagreed with a nod of dissension.

"You're wrong," Eleanor countered with such tenacity that Chuck turned to meet her gaze once more.

"She'd be missing everything."


	8. Chapter 8

Everything is black and white and grey  
>The walls are shaking when you're touching me<br>Changes everything when you're close to me

Back to back, hand to hand, face to face again  
>Lovers end, enemies, then we're back to friends<br>Something left holding us pulls me closer in  
>Take a breath and the color will return again<p>

Calling now, it terrifies me  
>and I don't know why<br>There you go, you paralyze me

and I don't know why

Everything is black and white and grey  
>The walls are shaking when you're touching me<br>Changes everything, changes everything

When you're close to me

"Munich"

The Fray

Blair walked quickly across the lobby and pressed the up button and waited for the arrival of the elevator. After her conversation with Chuck and the confrontation with Dan, she just wanted something easy. Coming to see Dorota and the baby were sure to put her in a better mood. She wasn't sure where she and Dan stood right now but she knew she didn't want to think about that mess.

When the doors opened Blair found herself staring down at a familiar face.

Will.

This would surely help her not to think about her situation, Blair thought bitterly. She was hopeful that at least the boy wouldn't remember her. Their encounter in the elevator hadn't been prolonged and the boy had barely looked up from his ice cream cone.

No, she reassured herself, he won't remember me.

"You're Blair, right," the boy questioned as she stepped onto the elevator.

Apparently he had a memory like an elephant.

"Yes," she affirmed with a tight smile. "You're…" she trailed off, pretending to not remember his name.

"Will," he said firmly, not fooled at all by her trick. "I'm Chuck's friend, we met in the elevator the other day."

She allowed her face to show a bit of recognition and just as she was about to confirm his statements, she was cut off.

"You were with some guy wearing a hideous plaid shirt and sporting an even worse haircut," he said with a slight smirk on his boyish face.

Blair stared at the boy, taken aback for a moment. No one talked about her boyfriend like that, she thought, seething.

She tried to think of a biting retort, but, unfortunately, when she thought back to Dan's red and blue plaid disaster, she realized the boy was right. She couldn't defend Dan's choice of shirts or his deplorable haircut. So she went for the next best thing.

"You are just like Chuck," she said, attempting to insert a sneer into her tone, "Always judging."

"I'll take the first part as a compliment," Will declared. "And as for the judgment part, is it judging if everything I said is true?"

Of course the boy would think being like Chuck Bass is a compliment, she thought. It's so Bass-like.

Her mouth opened slightly to gape at the boy. No one talked to Blair Waldorf like that and got away with it.

"I think not," Will finished with a satisfied smirk, clearly noting the lack of response from his opponent.

In that moment, as the smirk snuck across his lips, the boy captivated Blair. She could see it. She could see…him. He really was just like Chuck. Physically, the boy didn't look much like Chuck but the way he held himself, his expressions, his tone; the resemblance was uncanny and left Blair unbearably speechless.

"So," he began, choosing his next words carefully, "What's the deal with you and Chuck?"

She stared at him still lost in the similarities, "What?" she stuttered in a most unBlairlike fashion.

"The deal," he repeated, "You know how long have you known him, how do you know him? What's your history?"

The more she talked to this boy, the more he reminded her of Chuck, Blair decided. Of course Chuck Bass would be the only man on the planet that could find a boy that was just as annoying as he was at that age, and that, Blair thought, was saying a lot.

"You ask an awful lot of questions for someone I don't even know," Blair said with careful evasion.

"Inquiring minds want to know," he replied with a knowing smirk. "So what's the deal with you guys?"

"There's no deal," Blair replied, her tone purposely unwavering. "We're just friends."

"Yeah," Will grunted, "that's what Chuck said." And I didn't buy it any more from your lips than I did his, he added to himself.

Just friends, Blair thought with a pang at hearing what Chuck had reduced them to.

"Well, it's the truth," she retorted, trying to force the sick feeling that was rising in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of hurt, that all their history could be boiled down to that, made her ache. That after everything they had been through, their relationship would only be described as friendship. It didn't seem to do them justice. It didn't convey nearly enough; didn't come close to describing the depth of their feeling, the depth of her feeling. She had to remind herself that it was what she wanted and for the millionth time in her relatively short life, she was reminded that getting everything you wanted didn't always make you happy. In fact, some of the things she had never wanted to begin with had made her the happiest.

He continued to stare at her, seemingly challenging her to prove it. To prove that all she and Chuck were, was friends.

She had been wrong before- he was definitely more annoying that Chuck had been at that age.

"There isn't an elevator ride long enough for my history with Chuck," she relented.

Will looked unconvinced, noting that they still had four floors to go. He continued to stare her down, not moving his gaze from hers as he tilted his head to the side as if to say, 'I've got time.'

And maybe he did, but there was no way that Blair could rehash everything that happened with Chuck. Not now and certainly not with the boy who seemed to be Chuck's newest best friend.

"Our history is," Blair trailed off as she searched for the right word that would let her answer without giving too much away, "Complicated."

"Aren't they all?" Will challenged, cocking his eyebrow towards her.

Blair opened her mouth to refute him, but as she thought back on her life, all of her relationships seemed to be complicated-even her current one with Humphrey.

"What's your point," she said narrowing her eyes at the wide-eyed but not so innocent boy.

"My point is," Will started, not intimidated by her gaze. "No one said it would be simple. Lots of things are 'complicated.' Electricity is complicated-it doesn't mean you should turn off the lights."

"But just because it's complicated doesn't mean it's right," Blair challenged.

"No," Will conceded with an irreverent shrug, "But it also doesn't mean it's wrong either."

"We just," Blair began, but stopped quickly, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"We just what?'

"We just keep doing the same thing over and over again. We're friends and then we're…more and then we're nothing and I just, one day I realized I couldn't anymore," her eyes lifting at the end to find Will's brown gaze intently focused on her.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And are you happy?" he asked softly.

"Honestly?"

"No, I want you to lie," Will deadpanned. "Yes, honestly."

"No," she whispered closing her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"Then do something about it," Will said with a grim nod.

The elevator doors opened silently and Will stepped out, waving at the nurses as he made his way to his room.

Blair stood paralyzed in the elevator, staring after the boy.

Chuck sat in his spot, unmoved since Eleanor had left the apartment. His scotch glass had remained empty since her departure.

He had been surprised that Eleanor had been the one to tell Blair about the dowry; he had been certain that Jack had been responsible. Apparently he owed the Basstard apology.

Eleanor's words echoed through his mind for the thousandth time.

_She'd be missing everything._

How ironic, since he was the one that currently felt like he was missing the most important pieces of himself. Like he was literally missing everything that mattered. Yes, his heart and lungs were still there but little good they did him. Little good anything seemed to do him without her.

And he knew it was his fault. Knew that though he had changed, it hadn't been soon enough and knew deep down that she deserved so much more than he could ever give her. But…but he had thought they'd be ok. Somewhere deep inside he had always believed that confession on the side of the road. He thought they could get through anything. That he had found someone who loved him the same way he loved them: unconditionally.

How had they gotten here? How had he been so wrong?

He walked slowly to the closet and pulled down the familiar shoebox for the second time in so many days. Holding it under his arm, he made his way to the bed, sitting down and placing the box in front of him. Slowly, he reached out, took the lid off and was met with Blair's beaming face. Unceremoniously, he dumped the contents onto the bed and began to sort through all of the memories that had made up their life together, searching for that moment where everything had gone wrong.

Her camisole from the night at Victrola, a picture of them from his father's wedding to Lily, a vial of Chanel No. 5, and a headband from their high school days lay mixed in with the photographs and letters, together they made the story that was Chuck and Blair. But what were they really? Only physical representations of what he and she had felt so deeply

He reached down and lifted the camisole from its place on the pile. He was about to lift it to his nose in an attempt to see if it still held her unique smell, when he felt a prick on his finger.

"Damn," he swore, dropping the camisole and bringing his ring finger to his mouth to suck off the blood.

"What the hell," he said as picked up the offending article, turning it over in search of what could have caused the damage.

As he flipped the camisole to the other side, he saw exactly what had caused the pain. Pinned to the underside of the camisole was a small, heart-shaped gold pin.

Blair's pin.

He had completely forgotten that it was there. Last year when they had been sneaking around, Chuck had snuck the pin out of her drawer and placed it in his "Blair Box." At the time, he had thought the gesture funny: that he had stolen Waldorf's heart without her knowing, but now, now it just felt like a brutal reminder that he was trying to hold onto something that didn't belong to him anymore. Slowly he removed the pin from the camisole and placed it on the nightstand, reminding himself to find a way to get it back in Blair's drawer without her knowing.

No longer in the mood to walk down memory lane yet again, Chuck picked up the remaining items and began to place them carefully back into the box. As he grabbed the last bit of photos and notes, an envelope caught his eye: a crisp, cream-colored envelope that he recognized as one from Blair's personal stationary. There were many such envelopes like this in the pile but this one stood out among the rest for one reason.

It was still sealed.

Anxiously he picked up the envelope and shoved the box to the side. Lifting his legs up, he leaned back against the headboard and contemplated the envelope. Turning it over several times, he noted his name written in Blair's carefully controlled script on the front. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers under the seal and steadily pulled the thick cream paper from it's home.

He closed his eyes and took another breath to steady himself and then unfolded the paper with shaky hands. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, taking another steadying breath, and letting it out, he began to read.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N pt1: I don't own GG or Augustana…**

Breaking up with your breakdown  
>Standing tall in your white gown<br>You're going nowhere, you're going fast  
>Slowin' down, but it never lasts<br>Take your time  
>Take your time<p>

It's the wrong dream, with the wrong man  
>With a cold gun, in your own hand<br>Get it right this time, get it off your mind  
>Let the summer rain bring rest and shame and love<p>

Carve your name in the black stone  
>Swear to god he won't let go<br>If you can't love babe, then you can't hurt  
>You take the good times, with the worst<br>Take your time  
>Take your time<p>

"Rest, Shame, Love"

Augustana

Chuck walked out of the Empire to find the sun shining and giving every object a reflective quality that made it look heavenly. Raindrops from the night before still clung to objects on the street and made them glow even more, causing a small smile to cross Chuck's lips.

His mind was abuzz with the things he had learned in Blair's letter. The only thing he knew for certain after that he needed to get out of the penthouse. So he found himself on his way to the place he had spent most of his recent time, the hospital.

When the elevator door opened, he half expected Will's mischievous smirk to appear on the other side. Instead, he was greeted by the lopsided smile of an older lady.

When the elevator did arrive on Will's floor, he flashed a smile at the nurse's desk, throwing a quick wave to Sarah as he continued down the hall towards Will's room.

"Hey, buddy," Chuck said entering the room, "What do you say to an ice…"

Chuck's voice trailed off as he took in the room, a middle aged man in a business suit standing over Will's empty bed.

Slowly the man turned to face him and it was immediately clear to Chuck that the man in question was Will's father.

He studied him carefully, noting that he didn't like the heartless bastard he had imagined him to be. His suit was carefully if not artfully tailored, hi sandy brown hair neatly combed with just enough product to make it stay in place but not so much that it looked greasy. He could even recognize a glimmer in his eye that reflected one that he had oft seen in Will's eyes.

If Chuck was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that just by looking at him, he'd probably be tempted to do business with him. And that shocked the hell out of Chuck: How could such a bastard look so normal? Perhaps it wasn't that easily recognizable in others.

"Excuse me," the deep timbre of the other man's voice filled the room and disturbed Chuck's thoughts.

Chuck realized he must have been talking to him.

"Pardon," Chuck said with a careful smile on his face, not wanting to seem friendly but not wanting to appear unfriendly either.

"Where is he?"

"Probably on an elevator somewhere," Chuck said with a laugh, imagining that he must have just missed Will on his way up.

"Huh," the other man replied, his forehead scrunching together in his confusion.

"Don't worry about it," Chuck dismissed with a smile and a shake of his head.

"So, you're Will's father?"

"Yes, William Winthrop and you are?"

"I'm Chuck Bass," Chuck drawled, offering his hand to the other man.

"Bass?" the other man questioned as he took Chuck's outstretched hand, "Bass, as in Bass Industries, Bass?"

"One in the same," Chuck said proudly.

"It's such an honor to meet you. I've read all about your ventures with The Empire and The Charles. Everything you've accomplished, really it's incredible for someone so young…"

But Chuck was no longer listening. Something in the other man's compliment and immediately made him think of Blair. Of the letter that he had read and reread until each line was memorized.

_You've done so much and I'm so proud of you and what you've become and even more proud of the man you are becoming. I want people to get a chance to see the man I've always known. The man I've always loved. The man I'll always love. _

William cleared his throat, bringing Chuck back to reality and the conversation at hand.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said: How do you know my son?"

"It's a long story," Chuck said dismissively, his mind aching to go back to thoughts of Blair.

"I hope he was no trouble," William's father replied with a rough laugh. "He can be quite the nuisance."

"He's been no trouble at all," Chuck lied easily.

"I don't believe that for a minute, there isn't a word sufficient for…"

_I love you seems like such an insufficient phrase for what's between us. It doesn't even begin to describe the depth of it-how all encompassing it is. _

"Well," the other man began, "I'd love to sit down sometime, you know, pick your brain on some business ideas."

"Sure," Chuck replied distractedly.

He tried to focus as he took the proffered business card and absentmindedly slid it into his pocket.

"I should probably go find my son, he can cause quite a bit of trouble," he said turning to exit.

For a moment, Chuck was ripped away from his thoughts of Blair. He wondered how his life would have been different if someone had spoken up for him? If someone had told Bart what he was doing to him. He knew deep down that it probably wouldn't have made a difference-Bart Bass would probably have laughed if he had known. He would have thought he was.

But what if someone had tried?

"Do you know how great your kid is?" Chuck said on impulse.

"Excuse me?" William said angling himself back to Chuck, a harsh expression shadowing his otherwise handsome face.

"Will," Chuck clarified, " Do you know how great he is? Annoying as hell, sure, but he…he has such an honesty to him," Chuck said as he plowed on, his light brown eyes hard on the other's harder blue eyes.

"He thinks the world of you," Chuck said.

"I know," the other man shrugged looking slightly uncomfortable as he tried to shrug off Chuck's intense gaze. "But you know how it is. There's always another meeting somewhere."

"I do know how it is," Chuck affirmed. "I also know that your kid deserves a father that knows him. A father that sees how great he is and makes him a priority. A father that follows through on the promises he makes, like the baseball game last week."

"It was just one game and the company it's his legacy, his future."

_I'm scared. Scared that one day, I'll close my eyes and see a future and you won't be in it. _

"How many times have you seen your son in the last year that weren't tied to a major holiday?"

The other man quickly averted his eyes.

"That's what I thought," Chuck muttered with disgust.

"It's hard," the other man defended. "There's just not enough time to do things with him. There'll always be more baseball games."

"There's always another meeting, you said so yourself" Chuck said, throwing the other man's words back in his face.

"It's not that simple."

"How many times have you told your son you love him?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," William blasted, his nostrils flaring.

"You don't always get another chance to show how much you love someone."

_Sometimes I think back to that day at the hospital and just pray to God that I could go back and press freeze, take a time out from the world. I wonder how different my life would be now. How different **our** life would be. You were going to…I would have said yes. But as much as you or I would want to change the past, it just can't happen. _

"Look, I know our situation isn't ideal. It's not what I planned. But he's only ten, there will be more time," William said lamely, interrupting Chuck's thoughts again.

"And he'll only be ten for a little while," replied no sympathy in his tone.

"Business can wait. The people you love," Chuck paused, taking a deep breath. "The people that love you, they can't wait forever, because one day, forever ends."

_As much as I know that I love you, I also know that now is not our moment. It's hard to see you and know that we're right but not for right now. The scariest part is to think that we may never be again. _

"Make it right with your son, before it's too late."

With Blair's words still echoing through his mind, Chuck turned and walked out of the room.

If he had only waited a moment more, perhaps he would have seen the smallish figure pressed against the wall, the figure whose eyes matched those of William Winthrop.

At Chuck's departure, Will slid to the floor, tears falling down his rounded cheeks and hitting his hospital gown where it bunched at his knees.

Inside the room, William sank down onto the hospital bed, his own thoughts so loud, they drowned out the quiet sobbing of his son.

* * *

><p>"Look Blair, I'm so sorry. You're right. I never should have followed you. I should have trusted you and your judgment," Humphrey said ambushing Blair as soon as she walked into the loft. "I do trust you and your judgment."<p>

Slowly, Blair turned and laid her jacket and purse down on the counter, letting at a huge breath before turning to face Dan.

"No," she said succinctly, "you shouldn't."

"I shouldn't what," confusion marring his features.

"Trust me," Blair insisted. "You shouldn't trust me."

"Blair, what happened?"

"Nothing, Dan. Nothing happened," Blair replied, the irritation evident in her voice. "That's the problem."

"If nothing happened, then I'm having a hard time seeing the problem."

"The problem, Dan," Blair huffed, "is that I _wanted _something to happen."

"But nothing actually happened?"

"Correct."

"But you wanted something to happen," realization finally dawning on the boy.

"Correct again," Blair confirmed as she sunk onto the couch-the couch that suddenly seemed too dirty to sit on.

"Where is the problem?" Dan laughed. "That's the definition of trust."

"Ahhhh, you just, you don't get it," Blair cried in frustration. "You don't get it!"

"No, I don't," Dan replied with a shake of his head, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Blair glared back at him, not amused by the situation.

"But I'd be happy to try," he conceded in a more serious tone.

"I _wanted _something to happen," Blair said after a moment. "I was leaving the penthouse and all I could think was "This wasn't what I came here for. That this wasn't how it was so supposed to be. And I just felt so…I don't know…"

"I'm still lost," Dan said, as he looked at Blair quizzically.

"When, when I was with," Blair paused as she tried to say the words that seemed as if they would choke her. "When I was with Chuck," she pronounced carefully, "I never wanted anything to happen with someone else. When I was with him, he was the only thing I wanted."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all you have to say," Blair exclaimed turning to Humphrey, a look of shock painted on her delicate features.

"No, but you cut me off."

"Oh," Blair said as she sat back and waited for the rebuke. For Dan to confirm that she was just as awful as he thought Chuck was.

"What I was going to say was: Oh, well it'll probably take awhile to get used to the situation. You guys have history-it'll take a while to adjust to the changes."

"Adjust?" Blair questioned, genuinely confused by Dan's calm demeanor.

"Yeah, to the changes-of him not being your, you know," Dan shrugged at the end, unable to find a word that adequately would describe Blair and Chuck.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, your boyfriend," Dan breathed; quietly thanking God that she hadn't said soul mate like he almost had.

"Look Blair, I trust you. You're proving to me everyday that I should and that just keeps proving me right. You are better than Chuck," he stated vehemently.

Blair didn't respond immediately and he almost thought she didn't hear him but as he turned to look at her more closely, he could clearly see the cogs of her mind turning.

He opened his mouth to say something else-anything else but closed it, instead. Nothing seemed appropriate so he just stared at Blair and waited.

"Do you know why I didn't pursue anything with Chuck at the penthouse when I wanted to," Blair said after a few moments, turning slowly to face Dan.

"Yes," Dan said, relieved that she was still talking to him. "Because I'm your boyfriend and you're not a cheater."

"Yes," Blair said with a nod.

He continued to stare at her with rapt fascination, waiting for her to finish.

"And then," she began after a prolonged pause, "all I could ask myself after I left was 'Why?'" She shook her head at the memory causing the scent of her shampoo to fill his nostrils as her mahogany curls bounced back and forth with each movement of her head. "All the way home, I just kept thinking, 'Why? Why? Why? Why?'"

Blair stopped for a moment and looked to Dan with a wry smile. "And I didn't have an answer," Blair finished a moment later, her eyes moving down to the ruby ring that she twisted on her finger.

"To why you're not a cheater," Dan said, now more confused than ever.

The silence in the loft was deafening at this point.

Dan held his breath, feeling as if any exhalation would upset the delicate balance that had settled over the room.

"For why you're my boyfriend," Blair replied quietly.

"Oh," Dan breathed out slowly.

Blair waited for him to continue, her eyes still focused on the ring.

"That's all this time. Just, oh," Dan said with a bitter laugh.

"Oh," Blair whispered finally lifting her eyes from the ring to meet Dan's.

"Yeah."

"The thing is," Blair began moving her eyes away from his. "When you came to me, I was so-so lost. I didn't know who I was and you-you said all these great things about me, about Clair and I just. I just got lost in the magic of it all-of getting to be someone who wasn't me for awhile with someone who made it so…"

"Good?" Dan replied hopefully as he continued to stare in her direction, willing her to face him so that he could look into her eyes.

"Easy," Blair corrected, turning to meet his eyes sadly. "You made it all seem so easy and I desperately wanted something easy." She looked down at her hands in her lap ashamed that she had let it get this far.

"Just because it's easy doesn't mean it's wrong…" Dan replied.

"Just because it's easy doesn't mean it's right either," Blair said, slowly standing and gathering her things.

"Isn't there something I can say? Something I can do-anything that would change your mind," Dan begged, coming up behind her.

"It's not my mind that needs to be changed," Blair said as she walked towards the door, "It's my heart."

"I've already gone against it. I can't keep denying what I've always known. It makes me weak and a coward. I won't be a coward anymore. I can't keep running from what-" she paused, as she closed her eyes willing herself not to cry as she grasped the door knob with white knuckles, "from who I want."

"Blair, are you sure?"

_Are you sure? _

"Yes," Blair said, more to herself than Dan.

"I've never been more sure."

**A/N pt2: I really struggled with this chapter. Most of it was written last week but I just couldn't get some parts of it to feel right. I know some of you really wanted to read Blair's letter-I hope you're happy with the parts you got...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N pt. 1: I don't own GG or The Avett Brothers. **

_Three words that became hard to say_  
><em>I and love and you<em>  
><em>What you were then, I am today<em>  
><em>Look at the things I do<em>

"I and Love and You"

The Avett Brothers

She decided to go by the hospital, which is where Chuck seemed to be spending a majority of his time as of late.

She didn't quite know where to look since she hadn't actually seen the room that Will was in-she wasn't even sure what floor his room was on.

The only place she had ever seen him was the elevator but she had to start somewhere.

She chuckled softly to herself as she pressed the button, hoping that luck was somehow on her side and she would find Chuck and Will on the other side of the door.

As the doors slid open, it seemed that fate was on her side, at least partially, because Will's floppy hair was what greeted her on the other side.

"Blair," he said with a smile.

She couldn't help but notice that it didn't seem to meet his eyes.

"Will," Blair replied carefully, noting the shimmer of tears on his cheeks. She knew all too well about embarrassing elevator cries.

"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly.

"Actually, looking for you," Blair said as she moved onto the lift with him.

Will quirked his eyebrow at her as if to say 'Not buying it.'

Blair caught his look and it's entendre so she amended, "And Chuck."

"You just missed him," Will said nonchalantly as his hand reached out to press a random button on the keypad.

Blair couldn't keep the crestfallen look off her face.

"Oh."

At this, Will removed his hand from the keypad without selecting a floor and turned to stare at Blair.

"He was heading back to the penthouse," Will supplied with a shrug, " I think."

Blair got his message loud and clear and was almost off the elevator but something in the tone of Will's voice made her stop short.

There was a desperate vulnerability in his words that reminded her of someone else. Of another obnoxious boy who would have loved to spend his days annoying people in elevators if he had ever thought of it.

So instead of jumping off the elevator, she turned back to Will with a bright smile on her face as punched several buttons on the keypad with a wink.

"How are you doing?"

"Aren't you going to see Chuck?" Will asked dubiously, clearly she hadn't gotten his hint.

"It can wait."

"Hmph."

What was it with people thinking that the people that loved you could wait? Will would never understand this.

"What's up?" Blair tried again.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"Liar," he mimicked, as he was reminded of a similar conversation he had had with someone else in this very hospital. They were so alike.

"So what is it?"

He avoided her eyes carefully, scuffing his foot against the floor of the elevator.

"It's complicated," he finally muttered, well aware that she wasn't going to give up but hoping he could dissuade her.

Blair just stared at him, arms crossed, eyes unwavering and clearly unconvinced.

"You wouldn't understand," he tried again.

No one could understand his situation with his father-no one, except for maybe Chuck. But there was no way that Blair could ever understand how he felt.

"Try me," she pushed but his face remained steadfast and he showed no sign of opening up.

"Fine," Blair said as she leaned back against the elevator wall, reminding herself to burn the jacket later, "I'll guess."

Will shrugged and so Blair began.

"Girlfriend cheat on you with your best friend?" she asked, since many problems young boys seemed to face were girl related.

Hell, many problems grown boys seemed to face were girl related.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he replied through his teeth.

"Oh," Blair replied, "Well, keep it that way. Girls are trouble."

Will lifted his eyes to Blair and shook his head in doubt at the statement.

"Just trust me, we are."

"So it's not a girlfriend….I know, did your best friend leave town? Maybe without telling you?"

"No," he mumbled, clearly not amused.

"Hmm, so it's not a girlfriend problem and it's not a friend problem, perhaps we have a case of crazy parent?"

On the last one, she noticed the slight flinch of his eyes before he had expertly smoothed it away.

"Looks like we have a winner." Blair joked. "Or perhaps a loser?" she said as she noticed his expression sour.

"He's not a loser. He's just not there. He works really hard and he's really good at what he does but sometimes…" his voice trailed off as he brought his eyes to hers-eyes that reminded her so much of another's.

"But sometimes you just wish he'd work as hard at being a good father as?" Blair offered quietly.

"Maybe," came the even softer reply from Will's lips as he sank to the floor of the elevator, bringing his knees close to his body.

Blair took three quick steps across the elevator and before she could give it another thought, slid down beside the boy, resting her arm around his shaking back.

"I just. I just wanted to…" he whispered between tears.

"You wanted to what?" Blair prompted softly as she began to rub her thumb against his back in a soothing circle. She remembered that Dorota had done that for her when she was upset.

"I wanted…I want," her corrected, "to be someone he can be proud of. I want to feel something other than not good enough when he looks at me."

Each word was like a stab to her heart. How many times had she felt this way? How many times had Chuck? Why did people insist on having children if they were going to act like they didn't exist?

"I know the feeling," she said quietly as a reluctant tear slid down her cheek.

"Little Miss Perfect?" Will scoffed, "How would you-"

"Eating disorder. Fashion designer mother, beautiful and perfect best friend that everyone loves more than me," Blair said plainly, wincing at the words as the rolled out of her mouth.

At this, Will lifted his head and turned to face Blair. He could see the honesty in her eyes and the tears that had broken free. She was telling the truth.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I have issues," Blair said as she let out a deep breath.

The elevator was filled with silence as Will soaked in what Blair had just shared.

"You should tell him," Blair spoke clearly into the silence. "You should tell your dad how you feel."

His eyes turned to meet hers again and she could see the trepidation in them.

"I'm scared," he admitted.

"I know," Blair replied, as she pulled him in closer.

"It just means it's worth it."

Silence filled the elevator again but Blair felt particularly proud of this last piece of advice.

"You kinda suck at giving advice," Will said with a slight elbow to her side, a twinkle in his eye.

"Can't be perfect at everything," she said with a wink, hoping to lighten the mood as she squeezed Will's body closer to her, in what most people would call a hug but if anyone asked her later, she'd call a muscle spasm.

"I thought your only issue was bad taste in men," Will joked.

Clearly her attempt to lighten the mood had worked.

"Funny," she deadpanned, "I'm rolling on the floor with laughter."

"Chuck excluded of course," Will amended.

Chuck. It seemed everything would always come back to Chuck.

She turned to look at the boy who was currently wrapped up in her arms and she could see the glow of admiration in them.

"You really like him, huh?"

Will looked down sheepishly.

"He's been there for me when other people haven't. I don't get that a lot."

Blair nodded in understanding.

"Chuck's good at that-being there when others aren't..."

"I just really wish I could help him like he's helped me. Maybe I could try to fix things with his dad," Will said hopefully.

And with that phrase all of the air was sucked out of Blair's chest because she knew where this conversation would lead.

"I don't think that'll happen, Will," she said carefully, hoping to avoid the situation if at all possible.

"Come on, anything is possible," Will reasoned a smile spreading across his innocent face.

He really did have to be innocent to believe that statement.

"Sometimes," Blair began, but choked on her own words as she realized what she was about to say.

She took a deep breath and started again, "Sometimes, it's too late to fix things."

"No," Will said defiantly, "There's got to be a chance-a way to fix it."

"But there isn't," Blair replied firmly.

"You could help me," he said with so much hope in his voice that she wanted to tell him yes, even though she knew it was impossible. "We could do it together."

"Will," she began, barely able to keep her voice from shaking with emotion, "As much as I'd love to help Chuck fix things with his father, I can't."

"But why not?" He whined, standing up from his previous position. "He deserves it. He needs it-he needs someone to love him like that."

Will stared down at Blair and his eyes begged her to reconsider, begged her to help him do something good for Chuck.

"He does deserve it," Blair agreed sadly. "But you don't always get what you deserve."

"But Blair…" Will whined and stomped his foot and Blair couldn't take it anymore.

"He's dead, ok," her voice cracking as she snapped up from her position on the floor. "The reason you can't fix things with Chuck's dad is that he died."

"Oh," Will answered, his eyes falling to the ground to inspect his shoes again.

She really wished she hadn't snapped at him.

"Sorry," she whispered to him.

He just shook his and then lifted his eyes to hers.

"And his mom?"

"Long story," she replied gently, "but she's been out of the picture since he was a baby."

"So he's got no one?" he said and Blair could see how sad he was for Chuck.

"No," Blair said, shaking her head softly as she whispered the next words.

"He has me."

"In what world does he have you?" Will replied with so much venom in his voice that Blair stepped back until she was flat against the elevator wall.

"I'd do anything for him," Blair said earnestly.

"Except be with him?" Will questioned.

"Because I'm pretty sure he loves you more than anything in the world. And, I know I'm just ten years old, but you dating the muppet doesn't really make it seem like you love him the same way."

"But…" Blair started but then she stopped.

There were no words to say that would ever make right the way she had treated Chuck these past few months…hell, the past year. She thought back to the day she had first managed to tell Chuck how she felt about him-how devastated she had felt when he didn't return the sentiment. But then she thought back to the day he had and she had been convinced that there was no greater feeling in the world.

The words from her first time still rang through her ears.

_The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had, I will stand by you through anything._

Words she had long since wrote off as the illusions of a naïve girl, hit her like a ton of bricks.

She had oft looked back at the day in the limo as the moment that her whole life had changed. But it wasn't. In retrospect, it was that moment on a busy sidewalk, during his father's wake that her life changed. Because it was that moment when she had quit running. She had been scared as hell and she had to admit that when he didn't say it right back, it only confirmed how right she had been to fear the moment. It was the moment when she was open and lay bare before him in the everyway that mattered. It was the moment where she gave him the power to destroy and heal her all at once with three words and eight letters.

When he'd returned the sentiment, all fears had been chased away and the naïve girl took up shop again. She thought that love would fix all things, heal all wounds; that love meant never having to say you were sorry but that damn Ali was wrong and Blair and Chuck had learned the hard way. It seemed all they had done was hurt each other and apologize.

She had thought she had meant those words. Those words that had accompanied her life altering decision. The words that had spoken of a love that knew no boundary. She knew she meant them right until she found out about the hotel.

Looking back now, she could clearly see that that was when she started to run from it again. Because, truth be told, she saw how right her naive words had been. He could do unspeakable things to her and she still loved him. She couldn't figure out how to stop.

And it scared the hell out of her.

It had been a constant battle since then. Trust him. Run. Trust him. Run.

But the battle wasn't with Chuck. The battle had never been with Chuck. It was a battle she fought with herself.

She knew the kind of man he was. Knew how he felt about her. Knew how she felt about him.

What she didn't know was how to quit running?

How do you deal with getting everything you've never wanted?

Because, the truth was, he was nothing like the prince she had dreamed about as a little girl. He didn't have blue eyes or blond hair. He didn't carry a title or sit on a throne. He didn't like old movies or share an appreciation for the arts. He wasn't the type of man you brought home to your mother. He wasn't the type of man that could be entertained by watching movies on Netflix. He wasn't the type of man that appeared on the bestsellers list.

But her mother had loved him. And he had spent evenings at home watching Netflix with her curled at his side. He paid her dowry, releasing her from all ties so that she could be free to make her own choices. He got her into Columbia. He made her prom queen. And when he had every reason in the world, he hadn't stopped her wedding.

She had to be the dumbest woman on the planet because while on paper, he wasn't the man she had always dreamed of, in real life he was so much more. Because even though he couldn't make her a princess, he made her feel like one…

"Blair."

"Huh?" Will's words ripped her out of her thoughts.

He opened his mouth to make another snarky retort about how much she supposedly loved Chuck when he caught site of something in her eye.

Something that he hadn't seen very many times in his life, but he was starting to figure out what it meant.

It was the look that his father would get in his eyes when he would talk about Will's mother.

It was the look that he would see in Sarah's eyes when she talked about her husband.

It was also the look that he would see in Chuck's eyes when he talked about Blair.

And it was in her eyes now.

"If you love him, you should tell him."

"I'm scared."

"Just means it's worth it," Will said, parroting back her own advice with a wink.

"But what if he can't forgive me? I've been so…" she couldn't even put into words how she had treated him.

"Could you forgive him?" Will asked firmly.

"Anything…," Blair replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Then you have your answer."

"I guess I do."

* * *

><p>Blair found herself standing alone in Chuck's penthouse. She had rushed over after leaving the hospital. She wasn't exactly sure what she was going to say when she got there but in the back of her mind she was hoping that she'd see him and know exactly what to say. Her other options was that he'd see her and know exactly why she was there and she'd never have to say anything.<p>

That was clearly the chicken's way out, and there was a small part of her that wanted to take that road. But there was an even bigger part of her that wanted to fix things with him and she knew she couldn't do that by being a coward any longer.

"Chuck," she called softly into the darkness, "You here?"

No response.

She heard a faint movement coming from his bedroom.

Immediately a familiar lump formed in her throat and she closed her eyes slowly, as she took a fortifying.

Whatever she found on the other side of that door wasn't going to change how she felt. It had been her choice to be apart. Hell, she had been with Humphrey.

No, whatever she found behind that door, they'd deal with it, hopefully together.

She took another breath and inhaled slowly as her hand closed slowly around the knob. The door was slightly ajar and as she stood there, she could still hear the movements, they seemed to be moving closer to the door.

Blair stood frozen, breath caught in her throat. What was she going to find?

All of a sudden, she felt the door move against her hand. The surprising part was the force she felt at its movement. Or perhaps it was the lack of force.

The door was moving but it didn't move with the weight of bodies pressed against it.

What kind of tricks had Chuck learned while she had been in Brooklyn? Blair wondered.

The thought barely had time to cross her mind when the door fell all the way open and Blair came face to face with Chuck's playmate.

"Monkey?"

Chuck's dog glanced up at Blair as his butt wiggled back and forth a grin on his face if it were possible for dogs to grin.

Blair glanced around the room that Monkey had now left wide open, relieved to see that Monkey had been it's lone occupant.

Well, not it's lone occupant. He seemed to be carrying something around his mouth. It looked an awful lot like…

"Boris?"

Blair leaned down to the dog and reached out her hand to slowly touch his head.

Monkey growled.

"You do not growl at me, you stupid mutt," Blair glowered at the dog. "Chuck would kill you if he found out that you had his scarf in your mouth."

Again, Monkey growled.

Blair leaned in and carefully placed both hands on the portion of the scarf that was hanging out of the mongrel's mouth. Carefully she pulled back, hoping to wrench the scarf free from his jaws.

Monkey, however, was quite familiar with a little game called tug of war. He could also tell an inexperienced player when he saw one.

He firmly pulled back on the scarf, whining to show his discontent at Blair's actions.

Who did this girl think she was anyway?

Blair wasn't to be deterred. She readjusted her grip and yanked back with all the force she could muster.

At that exact moment a noise from the foyer signaled someone's arrival at the penthouse. Monkey released his hold on the scarf immediately, sending Blair flying across the room. She landed in a heap across the room; high heel broken, hair a mess but scarf in hand and in tact, slobbery but in tact.

"Monkey," Blair heard as his familiar voice ring through the penthouse.

Monkey let out a loud howl in response but made no move to find his master.

"Monkey," Chuck called again, "Come here."

Instead of following his command, Monkey whined and sat down resolutely in the room, a seemingly cold stare fixed on his face.

The dog was clearly not on her side.

Blair's eyes grew wide as she heard Chuck approach the room. She was horrified that Chuck would find her in his room, especially in her current state and glanced hurriedly around the room, looking for a way to make an escape but it was useless, there was no escape route. No way out of this one.

So she closed her eyes and prepared for whatever Chuck had to say to her as his shadow darkened the doorway.

"Blair?" Chuck asked as he stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before him.

"Chuck," Blair greeted cordially without looking up. She picked up her broken shoe and began to busy herself by trying to put the shoe back together, knowing already that it was useless but needing some place to look other than his burning gaze.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm trying to fix my shoe," Blair replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

When he didn't reply, Blair was forced to lift her eyes from the destroyed heel.

She had been right to avoid his gaze. It was more imploring, more endearing, just so much more…everything than she had remembered. She glanced away quickly.

"So you're fixing your shoe?" Chuck repeated, raising his eyebrows in doubt as he made his way across the room to sit on the bed.

"Yes," Blair replied indignantly.

"At my penthouse?" Chuck questioned further.

"I was nearby when it broke. I figured it was better than going somewhere else…" she answered petulantly.

"In my bedroom?" Chuck replied, a tiny smirk itching at the corners of his mouth, his eyes lifting in question at the last part.

Blair looked down again at the heel and scarf in her hand as she grasped for a way to keep the charade going.

"I needed some sort of tool?" Blair attempted with a shrug.

"And clearly my room is where I keep all the tools?" Chuck replied with a throaty laugh.

God she missed that sound.

"What were you going to do? Tie the heel back on with my scarf?"

Blair held up the shoe and the scarf in her hands and shrugged.

"It was worth a shot?"

Chuck just shook his head from his place on the bed.

"Not your best cover story, Waldorf. I expected more of you. Have I taught you nothing?"

"I didn't have a lot of time to plan," she explained away as she dropped the shoe to the floor.

Taking her time to stand, Blair made it into an upright position with Chuck's scarf still clenched in her palm. As she closed her hand around it tighter, she could feel the evidence of Monkey's previous altercation with the scarf. She released her tight hold and instead, opted to pinch it between her fingers, holding it out in front of her as if it were a dirty diaper. She walked across the room, arm outstretched, limping every few steps due to the height difference of not wearing her other shoe.

The chuckle from the man sitting on the bed did not escape her notice.

"Can it, Bass."

He slowly sobered up as she sank onto the bed beside him, dropping the scarf into his lap, as she laid back onto the bed, letting her hair fall down around her as she stared at his ceiling.

She felt the bed shift as Chuck moved into the same position, his body close but not touching hers.

The proximity was torture.

And she now knew why she had avoided being anywhere near him during her relationship with Humphrey.

It was too damn hard.

Being close to Chuck, she just knew. Knew everything that she should be doing, knew where she belonged without a shadow of a doubt.

She breathed in deeply and his scent filled her, comforted her, made her think of simpler times. Days when they lay on this very bed, staring at this very ceiling and their future had seemed so certain.

Days when it wasn't a question of if they would get married, only when.

Simpler days before they had each broken each other.

But those days were gone.

And tears filled her eyes at the knowledge of all that had been lost. Of all that could have been but could never be.

Too much had happened.

She fought back the tears as she listened carefully to his measured breathing. To each inhalation and exhalation he made. His breaths seemed to follow the pattern of her heartbeat.

"Truth," he questioned after they had lay there a moment.

"Monkey had your scarf and I was trying to get it from him," Blair admitted sheepishly. "It didn't exactly go my way..."

His laughter shook the bed and the vibration through the mattress was comforting.

It felt like home.

"At least I saved your scarf," she joked loving how she could feel the rumble of his chest through the mattress, wishing she could press her body against him to feel it for real.

"Yes, yes you did," he whispered with a wry smile as he rubbed the scarf between his fingers.

"Why?"

"Why did I save your scarf?" Blair asked, slightly miffed by the question.

"Why did you come here?"

"Will said you'd be here," she said, avoiding the answer he really wanted.

He took a deep breath and let it out.

This breath did not cause the bed to rumble in a pleasurable way. It was the signal that he was done playing around, that he wanted answers.

"I was looking for you."

She waited. Waited for him to say anything, waited for him to give her an out. Waited for him to ask a question.

Nothing.

He lay absolutely still on the bed, the sound of his breathing and his radiating warmth her only clue that he was still on the bed.

She closed her eyes trying to think of the perfect line that would make everything better.

Nothing.

Nothing she could say would erase or fix what had happened so she settled for the only thing she knew for certain, the truth.

"I love you."

**A/N pt2: I sat down several times to write this and kept getting stuck. Tonight, I got so unstuck, I managed to write my longest chapter. I also managed to stay up way past my bedtime...such is life. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I don't own GG or Sweet Talk Radio...**

What is it, keeps me returning  
>To questions I ask<br>My paper heart has been burning  
>Since you threw a match<p>

I can't quit a habit like you dear  
>Cold, as they say<br>Something about how you live here  
>I wanna live that way<p>

But I don't wanna take something  
>That never was mine<br>Or fill in blank spaces  
>With more dotted lines<br>One thing I can promise  
>When all the smoke clears<br>Just look in this window  
>You'll find me here<p>

"Dotted Lines"

Sweet Talk Radio

"_I love you." _

The silence was deafening. It was slowly strangling her. She tried to catch her breath by carefully inhaling to fill up her lungs but each time it was as if there was no air.

The words hung above them as if held by a hangman's noose and the silence left Blair waiting for the floor to drop out, silently praying for the end of the torture, whichever direction it would go.

An eternity passed.

The air that she longed to breathe was crushing her as the bile rose in her throat and tears prickled her eyelids.

She dared not move, dared not break the tenuous silence that her words had ushered in.

Blair had brought this on her self and she would bear the consequence with all the dignity she could muster.

She would stay until he forced her out-out of the penthouse, out of his heart.

His breathing had remained steady the entire time. She was too scared to hazard a glance in his direction, afraid that whatever she saw there would break her heart.

Because she had done this to him, to them.

As she lay there next to him on a bed that felt more like home than her own ever had and maybe ever would, she knew exactly how Marie Antoinette must have felt as she awaited her execution. But the guillotine had nothing on what Blair had built for herself. Antoinette lost her head, while Blair, with the blow Chuck could deliver, would assuredly lose everything, at least everything that mattered.

"I love you, too," came his strangled words, ragged and barely above a whisper.

They were the words she had longed to hear.

At least that's what she had thought until they had fallen from his lips sounding more like a cry of pain than a joyous declaration.

And suddenly they weren't the words she had wanted. They no longer constituted the best possible scenario. They were, in fact, symbolic of the worst. She wanted to rewind time and change her prayer and ask for anything but those words.

The tears she had been fighting silently streamed down her cheek and she quickly wiped them away.

Bear your consequences, Waldorf, she silently scolded herself.

"But," she questioned carefully, unmoving from her place beside him.

She could feel his body tense at the single syllable.

"But," he began, his voice steady now, "I can't do this anymore."

She had been wrong before. _This_ is what it felt like to not breathe. _This _is what it felt like to die.

Because she was dying without him; slowly losing everything that had made her Blair Waldorf.

"You're done?" she whispered into the stillness.

He didn't answer right away and that was fine with Blair, she used the time to steel herself for his reply.

He took several deep breaths.

"No," he said calmly.

And she could breathe again because whatever he had to say, it didn't mean he was done with them.

She tilted her head slightly, now able to look at him without the fear consuming her. She took in his prominent jaw line and his strong cheekbones as he continued to stare at the ceiling and her fingers longed to touch him.

His lips entranced her as he opened them, slowly moistening his lips with his tongue as he began to speak again.

"I'm done with the back and forth, all of the games, the gossip. I can't do it."

"What are you saying," Blair murmured, her eyes focused intently on the tightening of his jaw, as she tried to understand.

Warily he slanted his head so that he could return her gaze.

"It means that I want to be with you," he said gently, "but it's not the right time."

He looked back at the ceiling for a moment and closed his eyes purposefully.

"I don't want to mess this up," he said firmly.

"But I love you," Blair cut-in, not understanding where he was going with this.

"And I love you," he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence as he turned to regard her again, "Always have."

"Always will," she finished with the same confidence though her features were timid.

"And look where that got us," he said, as he turned back to the ceiling.

"But, Chuck," Blair pleaded.

"We have things we need to deal with before we get back together," he implored softly.

"Dan and I are done," she interjected and she couldn't help but notice how he flinched at the mention of the Brooklynite.

He shook his head softly, "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Serena and I are," she began but knew it would be a lie if she said they were fine. "Well we will be fine."

"Blair," he begged quietly.

"What?" she cried in frustration, "What else do I need to deal with? I'm not running away. I'm here asking for what I want. There is nothing else. There is no one else."

She eyed him carefully as he lay there. His eyes were shut, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply and she waited for him to share whatever it was that he felt was holding them back.

His voice wasn't even a whisper when he finally spoke.

"We weren't the only thing that was lost in the accident, Blair."

Her eyes closed immediately as her heart dropped to her stomach and her hand slowly reached down to finger the fabric of her blouse that covered her midsection.

The baby.

She shook her head softly in denial keeping her eyes squeezed tightly.

"It's fine," she promised, "I'm fine."

She knew the words were a lie as soon as she said them.

So did he.

"I don't believe you," he whispered.

"Because I'm not fine," he continued, his voice full of emotion. "I'm not over it."

She felt the tears begin to well in the corner of her eye.

"I may not have been the," he paused as his voice cracked.

"I may not have been the father of your baby…but I loved it, Blair. From the moment you said you were pregnant, I loved that baby. We were going to be a family, Blair. And then we were nothing. And I'm not over that. I wanted your baby. I wanted that life."

And the dam broke.

Everything she had been running from was here; it was now. The tears poured down her face like torrents from heaven. Her body wracked with sobs. Her hands shook. Her insides ached and she felt as if she had been physically cracked-split open. She didn't bother erasing the tears from her cheeks, couldn't be bothered with how she looked because she had lost too much. She had lost everything and it was all her fault.

The tears came from a place deep within her heart that had been mourning the child in silence for months. A place that wanted nothing more than to curl up in the arms of the man that shared her loss and bury her sorrows in her shoulders because with him, she could be weak because his love made her stronger.

"Me too," she choked out, unable to say anything else, unable to breathe.

She tried not to see the images that floated through her mind. Those brief moments from when she had imagined that life. That life that had included him and her and the baby, their baby. Because as soon as he had said those words, that he would love her baby, father or not, she'd known that the baby somehow belonged to him, even if it wasn't through biology.

But she couldn't get caught up in those thoughts because nothing would change what had happened. She couldn't go back and fix it, didn't know how to fix it even if she could.

So she had suppressed the grief and the memories and the plans. But the guilt was another story, not easily buried. The feeling that it was all her fault; that it was her selfishness that had brought on the loss, suffocated her.

She knew with certainty that Chuck was right.

"So," she began, her voice shaky and unsure, "I'll deal with…that. But where does that leave us? Because I love you." She paused for a moment, because she wanted him to know she meant it-that he meant more to her than words could ever convey. So she sat up and waited for him to open one caramel colored orb and then the other.

"I love you," she said, emphasizing each word as she reached down to slowly caress his cheek. His eyes closed at the contact and he let out a strangled sigh.

"I love you," she repeated, "So where does that leave us?"

"You just," he paused, "you just love me." His eyes opened slowly as he took her hand from his face and clasped it between his as he sat up to face her.

"You just love me without being with me."

Blair shook her head in denial as fresh tears began to form.

"Blair, I have loved you in some way and in every way for five years, most of which we weren't together."

"So why waste the time?"

"Because getting it right isn't a waste," he whispered, his eyes capturing hers.

"There is no one that I'll ever love as much as I love you," she pleaded. "No one else I'll ever want. How can I love you and not be with you?"

He momentarily reveled in her words, feeling like a man who had been lost in the desert and had just found an oasis.

But she needed to do more than tell him how she felt and they both needed to come to terms with the loss of her baby.

They could never be happy otherwise.

"We'll figure it out."

"How do you know? How can you be sure? What if-What if it changes? What if-"

"I love you," he whispered, "Always have."

"Always will," she finished for him.

"We won't let it change."

"I'm scared."

"Me too."

Blair leaned back into the bed, her hair splayed around her. Chuck leaned back and softly joined her as they both stared at his ceiling. Both knew that at some point Blair would have to leave but neither were quite ready.

Taking a deep breath, Blair slowly sought out his warm hand with her own and grasping it gently, she slipped her fingers over top of his, slowly twining hers through and squeezing softly. She hoped the action would say all the words that she couldn't muster, that it would speak all of the feelings she didn't know how to voice.

Lazily, Chuck flipped their hands so they were now palm to palm, staring at them in wonder as his larger hand dwarfed her smaller, daintier one. He shifted his fingers ever so slightly so that their hands were clasped together and gently began to rub his thumb against her hand.

This is how forever must feel like, Chuck thought.

It must have been forever that they lay like that, hand in hand, heart in heart, side by side.

Somehow they both knew at the same moment.

Sitting up carefully, they remained joined together by their hands, though the gesture felt more like clinging at the moment. Carefully Chuck paused to pick up both of Blair's shoes and they walked steadily, solemnly to the door and stood for innumerable moments.

Once they let go, it'd be the start. The start that they both needed but the start they both feared as well. The chance that they could fail was stifling. They both knew that they had failed so many times together and neither knew how they would survive if it happened again. Because this time, it would be the end. There would be no more trying.

"I miss you already," she whispered softly.

"I miss you always," he replied.

She felt his hand loosen around hers and instinctively clung tighter. She wasn't ready to let go. Instead of releasing her, though, he pulled her closer and wrapping his arm around her waist, he brought her to his chest and buried his face in her hair. Her tears soaked his shirt as they toppled from her eyes but she didn't dare release her hold to wipe them away.

After a few moments, she felt tears trickle down her neck and she felt his shoulders begin to shake. At this, she tenderly pushed herself back, just enough to look at his face. His eyes were closed as she softly brought her hand to his cheeks and brushed away the tears. Slowly he opened his eyes, brown met brown and she knew.

Knew that she could do it, that they could do it.

Standing on her tip toes and she pressed a kiss to his cheek breathing in his scent, memorizing the feel of him against her mouth. Slowly she leaned back, took her shoes from his grasp and hastily walked to the elevator. As she reached the opening, she slowly turned again, gave him a half smile as she backed into the elevator, unable to turn away.

They held each other's gaze until the doors slid closed and then remained frozen, neither knowing quite what to do with their new beginning.

**A/N: A beta would be loved...and reviews are loved even more ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: I don't own GG or Mumford and Sons...**

Cold is the water  
>It freezes your already cold mind<br>Already cold, cold mind  
>And death is at your doorstep<br>And it will steal your innocence  
>But it will not steal your substance<p>

But you are not alone in this  
>And you are not alone in this<br>As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand  
>Hold your hand<p>

And you are the mother  
>The mother of your baby child<br>The one to whom you gave life  
>And you have your choices<br>And these are what make man great  
>His ladder to the stars<p>

But you are not alone in this  
>And you are not alone in this<br>As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand  
>Hold your hand<p>

But I will tell the night  
>And Whisper, "Lose your sight"<br>But I can't move the mountains for you

"Timshel"

Mumford and Sons

It was hard to admit when you had walked all over a lifelong friendship-especially when both parties had been acting like everything was fine.

To most people, fine meant that things were going well. Blair knew that in some circles that the word might refer to one's attractiveness, but Blair would never be so base as it use it in that manner. For Blair, the word fine always meant trouble.

It was a cover.

She had used it when Eleanor had asked about her eating habits.

When people had dared to ask about her family, she had always replied they were fine.

She used it when people had asked her about her relationship with Nate and then later Chuck.

Most recently she had used it in reference to her relationship with her best friend-which was anything but fine.

She walked into the home that she "shared" with Serena after her conversation with Chuck, drained and exhausted. She collapsed onto the bed and just lay there, thinking.

Thinking about how badly she had screwed things up with Chuck.

Thinking how the only thing that she wanted to do was curl up in his arms.

Thinking that she was a failure because she hadn't been able to deal with the loss. She was Blair Waldorf and she just wasn't weak, except for when she was.

These thoughts were soon interrupted by the soft ding signaling the elevator's arrival and the familiar staccato on the stairs indicated that Serena had been the inhabitant.

At this realization, Blair sunk further into the comfort of her bed. She'd have to face her at some point-face what she had done to Serena-and that, well that was going to suck.

Blair held her breath, praying that Serena wouldn't try to stop by the room and talk to her. There really wasn't a reason for her to, anyway. They had been playing at friendship for months.

But Blair's prayers were unheeded. Though in truth, she had probably used her minimal pull with the man upstairs to get Chuck to forgive her.

Serena's blonde head poked into the room, tousled hair bouncing with energy and said…something.

The minute Serena's head had appeared around the corner Blair lost the ability to listen.

In its' stead was the ability to remember, with perfect clarity, every wrong she had ever committed against her best friend.

The inability to forget the wrongs also brought with it an incredible sense of guilt.

Because whatever Serena had been trying to say to her, she was still talking to her.

Though their friendship was a mere shell of what it had once been, the idea that Serena was still trying to be her friend caused a sizeable lump to form in Blair's throat.

She stared as her best friend continued to blabber on about whatever news she had and was overcome with the awful feeling of knowing, knowing what she had done to her best friend.

For the millionth time that day, she was reminded of how wrong she was because, even with all the favors she had called in to God lately, it seemed she was still blessed beyond reason. How did she still have people like Serena and Chuck in her life? How had she been so lucky?

So instead of calmly asking Serena to repeat whatever diatribe she had just finished, she burst out with a sobbing, "I'm sorry."

Serena stood stunned and for a moment was taken aback.

"About…?" she questioned, each syllable drawn out to perfectly mirror her inner confusion.

"Dan," Blair said plaintively, attempting to make eye contact. But Serena averted her gaze to the conveniently fascinating fabric of her dress.

Blair took a deep breath before continuing. Serena didn't have to look at her, but she still had to get this out.

"I'm sorry for the way I ignored you. The wedding. The last year. God, for pushing you in that stupid fountain…"

Serena had now propped herself against the doorway but had still not met her eye.

"I'm sorry for everything I've ever done that has hurt you."

A moment of silence past and Blair anxiously waited her friend's response but Blair had never been one for silence and had certainly never liked leaving the ball in someone else's court.

"I understand if you don't forgive me. I…I've been so horrible to you," she said, a definite note of resignation tainting the silence.

At this unnatural sign of surrender, Serena snapped her head up and finally met the other girl's eyes as she closed the distance between herself and the dejected girl on the bed.

"Stop," she quietly commanded.

But Blair kept going, muttering about how she would move out and would even leave her Dorota, if she wanted.

"Blair," Serena tried again.

"I mean, I should move out. I was wrong. So wrong. I just don't know where I'll go. Usually I'd try Chuck's but…God, I've messed everything up so badly."

"Blair," Serena all but yelled, as she grabbed hold of her slender shoulders.

"Stop. You're not moving out. I-"

"No, I don't want you to move out. It should be me. I'll just pack a few things and then send Dorota for the rest," Blair said as she made her way from the bed to the closet, apparently in search of a suitcase.

Looking for a way to stop her friend from her mindless mumbling and needless packing, Serena grabbed a silk covered pillow from the bed and with a small bit of force, flung it across the room in the direction of her friend.

The tactic worked as the aptly named throw pillow found its' mark, smacking into Blair's back with a light thump.

The brunette's eyes widened as she turned and brown met blue as she faced her attacker.

"No one is moving out," Serena said with distinct finality.

"But," Blair stammered, still confused by the pillow attack.

"No buts," Serena said with a shake of her head.

"Now sit here and tell me what happened," Serena said, sitting up on the bed and patting the blue silk beside her.

Carefully, Blair picked up Serena's impromptu weapon and made her way back to the bed. Clutching the pillow against her chest, she sank into the aforementioned spot but instead of answering her, Blair burst into tears.

She knew with certainty that she didn't deserve the love and kindness that Chuck and Serena had bestowed upon her that day.

After all the hurt she had knowingly brought on them, she deserved to be exiled to Arkansas and that probably wasn't punishment enough. Instead, each had comforted her. Had loved her.

So she cried. Tears of regret and remorse mingled with tears of gratitude, love and thanks, as she held tight to the pillow.

Serena inched closer and wrapped her arms around the shaking shoulders of her friend. Pulling her so that her head rested in her lap, Serena slowly stroked her silky hair as her friend's tears soaked the material of her skirt and patiently waited, as tears formed in the corners of her own eyes.

After some time, the tears ceased and Blair found herself feeling more like Blair Waldorf than she had in months because as much as she wasn't Blair Waldorf without Chuck Bass, her best friend was an integral part of that equation as well.

She slowly sat up and turned to face Serena, tucking her legs beside her as she tried to find the words that would explain how she had betrayed the people that she loved most in the world-the people that loved her most in the world.

The end seemed like as good a place to start as any.

"I broke up with Dan," Blair breathed out slowly, refusing to meet Serena's gaze.

To her credit, Serena said nothing and didn't reveal the slightest emotion.

"Because I realized that I still loved Chuck and…" Blair continued, stumbling over the name, _his _name.

Serena reached down and took Blair's hands in her own and waited for the brunette to meet her eyes before nodding encouragingly for her to continue.

"I went to see him-to apologize-and he said we couldn't-" Blair took a deep breath and Serena squeezed her hand reassuringly. "He said we couldn't be together right now because I hadn't dealt with…" and her voice trailed off with a sob.

Serena waited, stroking the back of Blair's hand with her thumb.

"The baby," Blair whispered.

And Serena's arm automatically came around to bring her into a hug, as she continued to hold her hand.

"He said I hadn't dealt with losing the baby and he wanted it to work out, so _he _wanted to wait. _We _have to wait and I just…" Blair stopped, breaking off into a fresh round of tears.

"I'm sorry, B," Serena whispered into her hair as she held the sobbing girl close, "I'm so sorry."

"I know he's right," she hiccupped. "But I want it to work so badly. I just, I _need _him so badly," she cried as tears continued to stream down her face.

"I love him."

"I know. "

"And I was so awful to him. And to you and I'm so sorry," she said, attempting to meet her gaze through the mess of mascara and tears. "I'd take it back if I could."

"I know. I know you would and it's…okay," Serena said with a small teary-eyed smile.

"It's okay and," Serena repeated, as she reached up to brush away the tears from Blair's eyes, "I-I forgive you."

"But how? How can you forgive me?" Blair protested. "If…If it had been reversed-if it had been you with…with Chuck," she shook her head and closed her eyes at the mere thought. "There's no way I would ever forgive you."

"I know."

"But why? Why would you ever forgive me? I don't deserve it."

"I know but you're my best friend and even though you can be a colossal bitch, I love you. Yes, you hurt me. No, you don't deserve my forgiveness but I think you hurt yourself more than anyone else. And…well, not so many years ago, I did something pretty unforgiveable and you forgave me."

"You were a kid. I should have known better," she said with a sad shake of her head. "I did know better."

"Doesn't matter. I still forgive you."

For a moment, Blair was again overwhelmed with the love she didn't deserve. She had never done anything in her life to deserve having people like them love her because they did.

They loved her, _all_ of her.

Not just the parts of her that were nice. Or the parts that were witty. Or pretty. Or powerful.

They loved the parts that were black. Rotten. Hateful. Ugly.

They loved her when she couldn't even find something worthwhile in herself.

She felt Serena draw her into a hug and lost herself in the tangled mess of hair and limbs and home, because being with Serena had always felt like home. They hugged for minutes, clinging tightly to the friendship that they had almost let slip away.

Wrapped in her best friends' arms, Blair felt a greasy presence against her face and flinched as she realized it was her best friend's hair.

"Your hair is disgusting," Blair muttered, disdain coating her voice, though a smile was on her lips, "Do you ever wash it?"

Serena rolled her eyes but hugged her friend tighter as she giggled.

"I missed you," Serena whispered after a few moments.

Trying to suppress her own giggles, Blair replied, "I missed me, too. And I'm serious about the hair. Shampoo is our friend."

"Whatever."

They stayed there a few more moments until Blair leaned back and attempted to right her disheveled appearance.

"So," Serena began slowly, "you want to talk about the baby?"

"Tomorrow," she said, with a shake of her head. "Tonight I want to have a sleepover with my best friend."

"Facials?" Serena suggested.

Blair nodded in affirmation, "And pedicures."

"Macaroons?" Serena questioned.

"Of course," Blair agreed, "and it wouldn't be a sleepover without-"

"Breakfast at Tiffany's," Serena finished with a knowing smile, as she retrieved the movie from the shelf.

"I was going to say martinis but that works, too."

The next day, Serena listened to all her feelings about the baby and helped her find a counselor. She had even waited in the car while Blair went in for her first appointment, though Blair had assured her that she would be fine. And the funny thing was, that the word was actually true.

Through all of this, Chuck kept his distance. He did not seek her out, choosing instead to let her deal with everything on her own. Not out of spite, but because he wasn't sure what his place was or what she would want from him.

She called him after her first appointment and had proceeded to call him after each subsequent appointment. It was like he was her post-counseling counselor. The counselor would give her advice or listen to her and then Blair would unload all of her feelings about the appointment on him.

For his part, Chuck never said a word. He listened attentively to her, responded in appropriate ways but he more or less let her come to her own conclusions about revelations that had come up during her sessions.

To say that the last month had been easy would be a lie and even though the road hadn't been easy, she was surviving; better yet, she was thriving.

But today she faced one of her toughest tasks on the road to dealing with her loss. Though she never would have admitted it pre-counseling, Blair had been steadfastly and deliberately ignoring Dorota and her new baby. Though she didn't exactly run out of the room when the baby was present, she also had yet to hold the baby. In fact, she had barely even caught more than a glimpse of the child.

Today, that was going to change.

Dorota had come to her a few weeks ago and asked Blair if she would be the baby's godmother. Blair had been so honored that she had immediately said yes. Since then, Blair and Dr. Feelings (that's how she referred to Dr. Felling when she talked with Chuck) had been working on coping strategies and Blair finally felt like she was ready.

Chuck had agreed to come to the ceremony as moral support. She was very grateful for his steady gaze as she prepared to hold her goddaughter for the first time.

Standing between Vanya and Dorota, Blair had never been more scared in her life. She was about to turn around and run out the door because she couldn't do this. Dr. Feelings was clearly crazy and had no clue what she was talking about.

She was not ready for this.

And just as she was about to turn on her heals and run (as much as you could in a pair of Manolos) the strangest thing happened.

Except it didn't seem strange to her, not anymore anyway.

As if he had anticipated her urge to run, Chuck now stood behind her, resting his hand on her back. Soothing her. Reassuring her. Telling her that it would be okay with no words at all.

Maybe Dr. Feelings wasn't so crazy after all, because with Chuck by her side, holding the infant didn't seem so scary.

In fact, nothing seemed scary, as long as he was there.

More and more she began to think that her sessions with Dr. Felling were a bunch of crap. Chuck could do more for her with the touch of his hand than a month of the pointless conversation had. She had tried to tell him this once, to convince him that she didn't need to go anymore. He had just smiled and shook his head.

She slowly glanced over her shoulder and met his deep, indescribable brown eyes. In turn, she saw the confidence that she didn't know she had. It's like she knew she could do it because he believed she could. He gently squeezed her shoulder in reassurance and she released the breath she didn't know she had been holding.

Turning back to the baby, she smiled and nodded, letting priest know she was ready to continue.

She braced herself for the moment the baby was in her arms-tried to steal herself against the onslaught of emotion that was sure to come because everything she and Dr. Feelings had talked about had flown out the window as soon as the priest had begun the ceremony.

But as soon as the tow-headed angel was placed in her arms, whatever armor Blair had mustered up, melted. She couldn't block this creature out. Couldn't deny the feeling of love that washed over her as the baby cooed quietly in her arms. Couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt knowing she would never have the opportunity with her own baby.

And maybe that was the one thing that Dr. Feelings had taught her-that it was okay to be sad. It was okay to be weak.

She should miss her child.

So standing there, holding her goddaughter, next to the woman who had acted as her mother for years and the love of her life behind her, Blair began to cry. There was so much loss in the moment but also so much hope as well. Because, while she would never have this moment with the baby she had lost, she had the promise of another.

A moment where she and Chuck would stand together and hold _their_ baby and allow Serena and Nate (for some God-forsaken reason) to be the godparents.

And she wanted that-_his _child, _their_ child.

She wanted _that_ life.

She had since she was sixteen.

The thought made the tears fall quicker. It was hard to be happy about the future with Chuck because being excited about that somehow made her feel like she was leaving behind her other baby and with that came so much guilt.

That was probably something else Dr. Feelings could help with.

The ceremony was ending and she caught Serena's eyes as she walked out of the church. Serena had insisted on coming to the event, despite Blair's protest to the contrary. Blair was glad for her refusal to listen and thankful for the support. Glad to be reminded why the blond had been her best friend since grade school. Glad for the resurgence of their friendship.

Blair knew she couldn't have come this far without them.

Together, they had carried her when she hadn't been sure she could walk on her own.

**AN: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. This probably would have sat around until August or September but a little Anonymous reviewer lit a fire...special thanks goes out to Kate who gave me a bit of procrastination and inspiration when I sat down for the millionth time to try to write this chapter. A huge thanks goes out to anyone who has read this story (and if you're still reading...)! I'm excited for the next season and can't wait to see what happens! A happy Chuck Bass? Be still my beating heart. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't own GG or Mumford and Sons. **

So break my step  
>And relent<br>Well you forgave and I won't forget  
>Know what we've seen<br>And him with less  
>Now in some way shake the excess<p>

And I will wait I will wait for you  
>And I will wait I will wait for you<br>And I will wait I will wait for you  
>And I will wait I will wait for you<p>

Now I'll be bold  
>As well as strong<br>And use my head alongside my heart  
>So tame my flesh<br>And fix my eyes  
>A tethered mind freed from the lies<p>

And I'll kneel down  
>Wait for now<br>I'll kneel down  
>Know my ground<p>

Raise my hands  
>Paint my spirit gold<br>And bow my head  
>Feel my heart slow<p>

"I Will Wait"

Mumford and Sons

Chuck stepped off the now familiar elevator into the even more familiar hospital hall. With a wink and a slight wave, he greeted the nurse at the station as he made his way down the hall to Will's room.

"Mr. Bass! Mr. Bass!" Chuck heard, as he rounded the corner toward his destination.

Pausing his step, Chuck turned in the direction of the voice and found himself staring down into the eyes of a gap-toothed, curly-headed brunette in a wheelchair.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Chuck began. And despite his stern voice, he finished with a wink, "Call me Chuck, not Mr. Bass."

The younger brunette blushed at this, "Sorry, Mister-I mean, Chuck."

"Just try to remember next time, Liv," he said with a slow smile, as he tousled her curls causing her blush to deepen.

"I will," she said, lifting her brown eyes to meet his, " I promise."

"Good," he said with a chuckle, "Mr. Bass makes me sound much older than I am."

"I don't think you're old at all," Liv whispered shyly, "I think you're perfect."

"Well, I think you're pretty perfect, too," he said with a laugh.

Liv's cheeks turned even redder at this compliment and Chuck just shook his head and waved at the young girl as he headed back towards Will's room.

He had only made it two steps when he heard, "Chuck!"

He turned with a grin on his face, "Yes, Liv."

"I-I just wanted to thank you, " she stuttered as she reached up to her head and fingered the delicate band that rested upon her curls, "for the headband. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome, but you should really thank Will," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Later," she agreed.

He smiled to himself as he made his way down the hall to Will's room. It had actually been Will's idea to give Liv the headband. He had been harboring a crush on the girl for a few months and had only recently opened up to Chuck about it. They had been out after a baseball game and Will had seen the sparkly headband in the display case. He had wistfully declared that it would look beautiful on Liv's curls. Chuck's first instinct had been to roll his eyes, but holding it back, he convinced to Will to go into the store and, with Chuck's help, purchased the diamond encrusted band. Of course, when it had come time to give the actual gift to Liv, Will had chickened out, insisting that he couldn't do it. He had shoved the box into Chuck's hand and had stubbornly declared that Chuck should deliver the trinket. Chuck begrudgingly obliged and the girl had been thrilled. He had tried to emphasize that the gift was from Will but the words had seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

He had laughed at the irony of giving such a gift to the girl. He wondered if that was how Blair would have been at that age. He wondered if that was how he would have been if he had known Blair at that age. And as he came on that thought, he found himself directly outside of Will's room.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he entered the room with a smirk.

"I just saw your _girlfriend_," he said with a sly smirk.

"She's not my _girlfriend," _Will retorted from his place on the bed, throwing down the Xbox controller.

"Sorry, your wannabe girlfriend," Chuck amended.

"She doesn't want to be my girlfriend," Will mutters as he launches his pillow across the room at Chuck.

Chuck ducks just in time to miss the projectile and straightens his tie as he rights himself.

"Maybe," he agrees, "Maybe not. But _you_ want her to be your girlfriend, so that still counts as a wannabe."

"Shut up," Will groans as he buries himself under the remaining pillows on his bed.

"Somebody's in a chipper mood," Chuck mocks as he pushes Will to the side to take a seat on the bed and resumes Will's game.

"Somebody's in a chipper mood," Will mimics from under the covers.

"What was that?" Chuck jests as he keeps his eyes focused on the screen. "Can't hear you over how awesome I am at this game. You really suck."

Frustrated, Will throws the covers from his body, knocking the controller out of Chuck's hand and onto the floor.

Unfazed, Chuck smoothly moves from the bed to the chair, picks up the remote and resumes play.

Will continues to stew on the bed until he notices the date on the calendar and a sly smile crosses his face.

"Want to talk about wannabe girlfriends, Chuck," Will asked devilishly as he puts extra emphasis on Chuck's name.

Removing his gaze from the television momentarily, Chuck's gaze meets Will's questioningly.

Will only raises his eyebrows in response so Chuck turns back to the game at hand.

"It's Friday," Will states simply.

"Thanks for the update, Einstein," Chuck replied, eyes never leaving the screen.

"It's Friday night," Will continues, "And you're playing video games in a hospital with a kid."

Chuck's eyes remain on the screen but his fingers cease to move on the controllers.

"Your point?" He questions, though he knows where the kid is going and he dreads it.

"You're not out on a date," Will states simply. "So if you want to talk about wannabe girlfriends," Will emphasizes, "Then maybe we should start with yours."

Chuck finally drops the controller and turns to meet Will's gaze.

"She's not my girlfriend," he says, almost sadly.

"No crap," Will returns. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why isn't she your girlfriend?"

Will's question lays heavy in the air between them.

It was a question he had started asking himself recently. In the beginning, it had made sense to him for them to be apart. He was still hurt from what had happened with Humphrey and he knew that she needed time to deal with the loss of her baby. Over the past few months, though, things had been going well. Really well. She called him after her doctor appointments and they would spend hours on the phone talking and laughing. Their relationship had never been this good.

It was after one of these particular conversations that Chuck had started to ask himself why she wasn't his girlfriend yet. She seemed to be doing well with the counseling. So well, in fact, that Chuck was afraid to push her.

What if them getting back together pushed her into another spiral? What if she pushed him away again? And while his heart screamed that this wouldn't happen, his head kept trying to be logical.

Chuck shrugged, "I guess, I'm just waiting."

"Waiting for what," Will asked, "Your hair to fall out? Hell to freeze over?"

"No," Chuck shot back indignantly.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, Chuck lost in thoughts and Will trying to figure out how to help his friend.

"I guess I'm just waiting for her to be sure," Chuck said.

"She is sure, Chuck," Will reassures, "She loves you."

"I know," Chuck replied, meeting his eyes. "I know she loves me."

"Then what?"

"I'm waiting for her to be sure that she's ready and I'm not sure she is," he replied.

"How will you know?"

"I have no clue…"

The silence overtakes the room again and Will searches for a way to change the subject.

He leans down and picks up the fallen retriever from the floor and then retrieves one from the nightstand.

He hands the controller to Chuck with a smile and Chuck gratefully accepts the change in topic.

"You're not that awesome," Will taunts as he furiously punches the keys on his controller in an effort to kill Chuck's player.

"Yes, I am," Chuck replies with a smirk, "I'm Chuck Bass."

* * *

><p>Her heels snap against the tile as she makes her way down the familiar hall to Will's room. She hadn't been to see him in awhile and her social calendar had surprisingly come up empty for that Saturday afternoon so she had decided to pay him a visit.<p>

She walks into the room but finds the room empty and strangely quiet.

"Will," she questions into the darkened room.

She slowly flips on the light switch as she glances around the room taking in her surroundings. Her more recent visits had been announced and perhaps Will had always cleaned up before she arrived because this was clearly the room of a young boy. The white sheets are rumpled and half falling off of the bed. The chair beside the bed contains an Xbox controller as well as several empty candy wrappers. The drawer on the bedside table is opened and she can clearly see where he keeps his candy stash. But something else on the nightstand caught her eye. A frame.

Moving forward, she gently picked the frame up from the table to examine it more closely. Blair guessed that the picture was from one of the baseball games the pair had gone to. Compared to Will's cheesy mug, Chuck probably looked slightly, if not completely disinterested in the picture. But Blair knew Chuck and a smile grew on her face as she could see the happiness dancing in his eyes. Slowly she brought her finger up to trace the outline of his jaw, wishing, for just a moment that it wasn't a photo she was touching.

"Looking for Will," a small voice came from the doorway.

Startled, Blair slowly placed the picture down on nightstand and turned to face the intruder, a young girl with a gorgeous, Blair noted, headband on top of her shiny curls.

Before Blair could answer, though, the girl had wheeled over to where Blair was standing and picked up the frame that Blair had been holding before staring at the older girl suspiciously.

"Do you know Mr. Ba-I mean Chuck?" the girl said inquisitively, seemingly taking stock of the slender brunette in front of her.

"I do," Blair replied, "How do you know him,…"

"Liv," the young girl replied with a forced smile as she stretched out her hand.

"Blair," she answered, surprised at the girl's strong handshake.

"Will's not here," Liv said, with an air of superiority to her voice.

"I can see that," Blair returned, "Do you know where he is?"

"Maybe," the girl replied, "What's it to you?"

"You're seriously not going to tell me where he is?" Blair said in disbelief.

The girl remained unmoved staring down Blair as if she were a lion stalking her prey.

For a moment Blair stared at the young girl. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," Liv replied, never batting an eyelash.

"Whatever," Blair said, rolling her eyes, "The nurses will tell me where he is."

"The nurses aren't going to tell a strange lady where one of the patients' is," Liv snapped.

"Fine," Blair sighed, figuring the girl was right. What could it hurt to answer her questions anyway?

"What do you want?"

"What's he to you?"

"Will?" Blair asked in confusion.

"Chuck."

"Chuck?" Blair said as realization dawned on her.

"What's he to you?"

"Do you _like_ Chuck?" Blair asked, a slight giggle in her voice as her eyes widened.

"Maybe," the girl replied as her mask of stone slipped momentarily from her face at the thought of Chuck. "But the question is, do _you _like Chuck?"

For a moment, Blair stared at the young girl and tried not to giggle at being interrogated by a pre-teen about her…Chuck.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Liv asked tersely.

"No," Blair answered carefully.

"Good."

"Excuse me," Blair asked, clearly affronted.

"Don't act offended," Liv snapped. "He's too good for you."

Liv looked at Blair for a moment, a triumphant smile on her face at having put the older girl in her place.

"I think so too," Blair said with a wink, "But luckily for me, he doesn't see it that way."

"So he is your boyfriend," Liv said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "You're a liar."

"I didn't lie," Blair answered. "He's _not_ my boyfriend."

"Then what is he?" Liv challenged.

"He's my…Chuck," Blair said as she glanced at his picture on the table.

"And you're Blair," Liv rolled her eyes, "I got that already. But he's not your boyfriend?"

"No," Blair said, her tone clearly exasperated.

"Do you want him to be?" the young girl pressed.

"Yes," Blair sanpped as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Does _he _want to be _your_ boyfriend?"

"Yes," Blair replied, unable to keep the smile off her face.

"Then why isn't he?"

"Huh?"

"Why isn't he your boyfriend?"

"We're just…waiting?"

"For what?" Liv said with a smirk. "Your hair to fall out? Hell to freeze over?"

"No," Blair replied indignantly.

"Do you think you can do better? Because you can't. Chuck Bass is the best there is."

"I know," Blair said with a small smile. "He's amazing. He's _always _been amazing."

"Then what?"

"I guess I'm just waiting for him to ask," she said simply. "He's what I want. So I guess I'll wait until he asks."

"What if it's forever?" the girl insisted.

"Then I'll wait forever."

"That's dumb," Liv answered, disdain filling her voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop waiting," Liv replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Go and get what you want, that's what I'd do."

"What would who do," Will replied as he appeared at the doorway, shirt half on and hair in disarray with a basketball tucked under one arm.

As both girls turned to face the man of the hour, Will's face began to turn a deep shade of crimson as he tried to pull down his shirt and straighten his unruly hair.

"Hey, Will," Blair said with a smile, noting the bright-red stain to his cheeks.

"Hey, Liv," Will said stammering, giving no notice to the other girl's presence.

"Hey," Liv said quietly as she began to wheel herself to the door. Just as she reached the threshold, Liv turned the chair to smile sweetly at Will, "I'll see you later." She then turned a pointed glare in Blair's direction. "Blair, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Blair replied. "Oh, and Liv."

"Yes."

"I love your headband," Blair said truthfully.

"Thanks," the younger girl replied a slight blush shading her cheeks. "It was a gift."

"Well, they have excellent taste."

"Yes, they do," Liv agreed as she wheeled out the door.

The room was quiet for a few moments after Liv's exit.

"She sure is something," Blair pried.

"She sure is," Will agreed with a dreamy smile.

"Whatever," Blair muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"So," Blair said, perching daintily on the edge of the bed. "How have you been?"

"Fine," answered as he climbed onto the bed beside her.

"Fine?"

"That's what I said."

"So tell me about Liv," Blair prodded.

"Nothing to tell."

"So she's not your girlfriend?"

"No," Will replied through clenched teeth. What was it with people these days?

He waited a beat and then couldn't stop himself from asking, "What was that about, by the way? You and Liv?"

"Girl talk," Blair said, purposefully giving nothing away.

"About?"

"Girl stuff," she answered simply.

He gave her one of those looks that told her she could do better and he knew it.

Blair huffed.

"Fine, we were talking about Chuck," Blair offered.

"What about Chuck?"

"She asked why he wasn't my boyfriend."

"Valid question," Will mused.

"Yeah, well, I told her I was waiting for him to ask me."

"That's dumb," and Blair found herself rolling her eyes at his reaction, the same that she had received from his non-girlfriend.

"That's what she said."

"Smart girl."

"Whatever."

Slowly, Will reached around Blair's slender figure to grab a package of Twizzler's out of his drawer. Pulling one out, he bit into it and offered the bag to Blair.

"That was it?"

"No," Blair replied, slipping out one candy.

She placed the red licorice in her mouth and slowly nibbled on the end as she contemplated Liv's parting piece of advice-something she had already vowed to do this year.

"She told me to quit waiting and get what I want."

"Good advice," Will replied, using his Twizzler to emphasize his agreement before popping the rest of it in his mouth and grabbing another.

"Yeah," Blair sighed as she thoughtfully chewed the rest of her candy. "It was."

"So what are going to do?" Will said carefully as he offered the bag to Blair.

"Quit waiting, I guess," she said with a smile as she met his eyes and took another candy.

He returned her smile and followed her eyes as they drifted towards the frame.

They both chewed in silence, staring into the frame at the man who had changed both their lives so drastically.

"I should get going," Blair said, popping the last bit of candy in her mouth. "Waiting ends today."

"Go get 'em tiger!" Will quipped with a mouthful of candy.

"So funny," Blair snarked.

"I thought so," Will said with a shrug as Blair turned and stopped at the door.

"Will."

"Yes," Will sing-songed, awaiting the next barb.

Blair smiled, "She's right."

"Liv," she clarified as she noted the confusion on his face.

"You do have great taste. The headband is beautiful."

Will stared for a moment, "How did you-"

Blair waved it off, "Maybe it wouldn't hurt you to take her advice and go after what you wanted, too."

And with that, Blair walked out the door, heels clicking across the floor like a woman on a mission. Her wait was over.

**A/N: I'm dreadfully sorry for the horrible wait. I could give about a million excuses but that's all they'd be. I had the summer off and wasn't feeling very inspired. I thought my trip to NYC would help pull the story out of me. All it did was convince me that I needed to move to the city and that Ed Westwick is too hot for words... Now my summer is over-w****ho would have thought it would take going back to work for me to get some inspiration and make time to write? I think there will be at least two more chapters, if not three. **If you're still reading, thank you, thank you, thank you! You are amazing! ****


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I don't own GG or One Republic. **

Take all the time lost  
>All the days that I cost<br>Take what I took and  
>Give it back to you<p>

All this time  
>We were waiting for each other<br>All this time  
>I was waiting for you<p>

We got all these words  
>Can't waste them on another<br>So I'm straight in a straight line  
>Running back to you<p>

"All This Time"  
>One Republic<p>

Chuck rushed out of his limo, not even waiting for Arthur to come to a full stop. He glanced around quickly but couldn't see what he was looking for. Searching each side of the building, Chuck saw no sign of the young boy.

Worried that he had misread the message or that something had changed, Chuck reached into his pocket to fish out his phone.

_Meet me at 51st and Madison. It's urgent!_

He had read the message right, so where the hell was Will?

Chuck had been working on plans for BI's newest expansion when he had received the urgent message to meet Will. He had questioned why Will would be at The Palace, but had called Arthur to bring the limo around immediately nonetheless.

Now, standing on the street, Will nowhere in sight, Chuck began to question if this was just another trick of the young boys; something to pass the time while he sat in the hospital room.

He might have to teach him the meaning of the word "urgent" for future reference.

He scrolled through his phone to call Arthur back around and just as his thumb was poised on the send button, he heard his name ring out above the street noise.

"Chuck," came a familiar voice.

Looking around to find the face, Chuck's expression was a sight to behold. He was both happy and confused by her appearance and both showed equally on his handsome face.

"Chuck," she called again as she slowed to a stop in front of him.

"Blair," he questioned, "What are you doing here?"

And suddenly an idea dawned on him. "Did Will call you, because I can't find him anywhere."

"I'm not here because of Will."

"Oh," Chuck said, more confused than before as he began to take in her appearance.

She looked gorgeous. Of course, he always thought she looked gorgeous, but this was different. He could tell she had gone to extra lengths that day. She had even brought out her high school trademark, he noticed as he took in the silky headband, resting atop her even silkier curls.

"You look…" he began, "gorgeous."

She smiled at his compliment, happy that her efforts had not gone unnoticed.

"Thank you."

"And I _really_ wish I could stay and see what you were up to, but I think Will really needs me. Or else I _really_ need to kick his ass." Chuck said with a smirk.

On impulse, Chuck leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Blair's cheek, inhaling the scent of lavender and Dior that was uniquely Blair. As he turned toward the limo, he felt a gentle tug upon his lapel and found himself being turned back to face the brunette.

"Will doesn't need your help," she said calmly, a smile dancing in her chocolate eyes.

He stared at her skeptically as he waited for her to explain.

"I had him text you," she stated.

Pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place as he began to realize that Will had been a pawn in one of Blair's schemes. But a scheme for what? He would do anything she asked him to. Even things she didn't ask him to.

"Why couldn't _you_ just call me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise and I couldn't figure out another way to get you here," she said.

"Wanted what to be a surprise? And where is here? We're standing on a sidewalk," giving the normally brilliant girl a look that told her he had no clue what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, Blair reached out and took both of Chuck's hands in hers, surprised that her hands felt steady.

"I'm done waiting, Chuck," she said as she stared into his warm eyes. "I want to be with you. I don't want to wait anymore. When people ask me if you're my boyfriend I want to say yes. I want to be able to say that you're so much more. Chuck, I'm just, I'm just done," she finished with a shake of her head as she continued to hold his gaze and hands.

His grip on her hands had become immeasurably tight yet she had no intention of asking him to loosen his grasp.

She never wanted to let go.

"You want to be my girlfriend," Chuck teased, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

"No," Blair replied. "I want to be more, but I'll settle for girlfriend. At least for now."

"Hmmm," Chuck pretended to ponder for a moment, as his fingers began to lightly stroke her hands, her ring finger in particular, "Now why would you want to be my girlfriend?"

Blair rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the dopey smile off her face as she replied, "Because I love you."

"I suppose that's a good enough reason," he mused, his faux air of indifference offset by the sparkle in his eyes.

Carefully he removed his hands from her grasp and slid them around her waist, bringing her forward until they were connected in the most innocent yet intimate way possible.

"I guess I could be your boyfriend," he whispered into her ear, his breath on her neck sending chills through her body.

She closed her eyes for a moment to bask in the moment. He was finally hers. They were finally together.

"That's all," she whispered lightly as she pulled back to lean her forehead against his.

"What more could you want," he said mischievously.

"Three words, eight letters," she breathed into the centimeter between them.

"I," he began, his lips now so close that they touched hers with every movement, "Love you."

As the last syllable fell from his lips she felt her arms lift to encircle his neck as they closed the miniscule space between them. Burying her fingers in the hair she had missed so dearly, Blair pressed herself against him, unable to get enough.

He wasn't nearly close enough and it couldn't last nearly long enough. It would never be enough. She would never be satisfied; she would never be able to get enough of him.

She sighed as he pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth and began to languidly stroke hers in a well-practiced way. She responded in kind but had to pull back to catch her breath after a few moments.

She would never understand how kissing him was always so new. Each kiss felt like the very first. There was still so much need and desire but mixed with an unmistakable bit of tenderness. The way he seemed to do the exact right thing at exactly the right time.

It wasn't just that he was a technically skilled kisser, though he certainly was. It was more in the way that he would hold one of her curls in his fingers as though it were the most delicate flower, as his tongue pressed against hers. It was the way that when he held her impossibly close, he would pull her closer still as if he could never get enough.

And that was fine with her, because she was quite sure that she'd never have her fill of him.

As their foreheads touched lightly, their breathing still uneven from the heated kiss, something crossed Chuck's mind.

"You said you wanted to do this here," Chuck asked dubiously, his mind still foggy from the kiss.

"Why did you want to become my girlfriend on this street corner? There are plenty of street corners in New York, why this particular one?" He said with a smile as he dragged her closer to him, looking at her shining face with wonder.

"Don't you remember," she said pulling back so she could look into his eyes as a dream-like expression crossed her features.

He shook his head slightly, wishing he could.

"It was four years ago," she said, trailing off. "Right after your father's funeral."

She paused for a moment, trying to assess his gaze if it was ok to continue. His slight nod was her cue to commence.

"You were upset and you had left. I ran after you," she answered with a wry smile on her face.

Chuck grimaced at this part, the memory flooding back-the look of hurt that had washed over her face when he had shut the limo door.

"And I told you I loved you," she said softly, squeezing her eyes shut as she pictured the moment.

"I remember," he said, cutting her off before she could finish, not wanting to be reminded of how he had left her there.

"So why here? Because it just seems like another place I let you down," he said sadly.

"Aren't there better places to serve as permanent reminders of our love?"

She nodded slightly.

"There are a million places in this city that could have been right," she mused softly.

"I picked here because," she paused, searching for the words. "Because this is where I knew. Knew that you were it for me. Knew that you were more important than my pride and that I didn't want to hide from what I felt anymore. Right here-on this street corner-the world rushing by, I knew there was no one else in the world for me. No one but you," she said as she gazed intently into his eyes as hers began to fill with tears.

"These past few years," she said with a shake of her head, "I've been trying to run from this moment. Run away from these feelings-from this place. But I just keep ending up here; standing in front of the Palace, watching you go and realizing how much I need you to stay," she said reaching up to brush his cheek.

"This is where forever started for me. It's where I want forever to start for us."

She stared at him, wondering what he'd have to say to her admission. She hadn't planned on saying all that, but she couldn't stop once she had started. If they were going to work this time, there could be no secrets, least of all secrets about how they felt. So she had opened her mouth and poured out her heart.

Without a word, his arm snaked around her waist again, pulling her close to him, but not all the way. He stared at her for a few moments. His lips were a breath away and just as she thought he was going to kiss her, he whispered two familiar words.

"You sure?"

Very much like the first time he had asked that question of her, a kiss on the lips was his only reply.

**A/N: Shorter update but at least it didn't take two months! There are two-ish chapters after this. The next update will probably not be until September. Thanks for reading and thanks for reviewing! **


	15. Chapter 15

Was a time when I wasn't sure  
>But you set my mind at ease<br>There is no doubt  
>You're in my heart now<br>Said, woman, take it slow  
>It'll work itself out fine<br>All we need is just a little patience  
>Said, sugar, make it slow<br>And we come together fine  
>All we need is just a little patience<p>

"Patience"

Guns N' Roses

Patience had never been Blair's strong suit.

Her parents always had to hide Christmas presents from their daughter's prying eyes and keen sense of deduction. They had been foolish enough to hide the gifts in the same place every year since she was five. Putting her gifts inside their luggage in the back of the closet was not at all original.

Even early admission to college was not fast enough for Blair Cornelia Waldorf. When she had applied to Yale, she had tried to convince them to create a "pre-early admission, admission" just for the upper echelon of the applicants, she had assured, namely her. This attempt had been to no avail.

She had vowed to herself that she would be patient with Chuck and let him propose in his own time. Each day she would wake with the promise "Perhaps today." Yet each night she would lie back in bed, disappointed and slightly grumpier than the night before.

Not only was it torture for her, it was torture for everyone that came in contact with the brunette.

Entering the Waldorf penthouse in recent days could only be compared to running onto a minefield. There was no telling what would set Blair off.

Dorota had started to notice the change in temperament about a month ago.

She had been sure that Blair would be pleased with the large delivery of peonies from her favorite florist. Upon Dorota's announcement as she entered Blair's room, Blair had quickly pasted a tight-lipped smile on her lips and told Dorota to dispose of them immediately and returned to her well-worn copy of "Anna Karenina."

"But Miss Blair, they your favorites, from Mister Chuck," replied the faithful housekeeper.

"I said, dispose of them," Blair replied in a clipped tone, going back to her book without glancing up.

Confused, Dorota had remained rooted to the floor of Blair's room, clutching the vase in her hands.

Moments later, Blair had looked up to see the Polish woman still standing in the room, the offending object still in her hands.

"Fine," Blair huffed.

Throwing down her book, Blair stalked over to where the woman stood. She grabbed the vase out of her hands and began to march across the room.

Thinking that Blair had changed her mind, a small smile began to stretch across her cheeks.

However, the smile quickly vanished as she saw Blair open the window and without preamble, drop the vase to the sidewalk below.

After that, things had quickly gone downhill. Her favorite Pierre Herme macarons had been thrown against the wall, frightening the young delivery boy. The newspaper with the headline of Prince Harry's escapades had been ripped to shreds upon arrival. She had even thrown a pair of Louboutin's at the television when the History Channel had played a documentary on Winston Churchill.

Though Dorota had witnessed each of these explosions, she was not to be the target of today's blow-up.

Knowing that her friend had been a little on edge, Serena thought that it would be nice to watch a movie together. She had been careful about her snack selection since Dorota had seen the Gossip Girl blast about the macarons. The popcorn from Garrett's seemed a good choice as Blair was popping pieces into her mouth as she settled back on the bed, an almost genuine smile on her face.

"So what's on the docket for today," Blair questioned with an arched eyebrow crunching on a piece of caramel crisp popcorn.

Under normal circumstances, Serena wouldn't have even thought twice about what movie would put Blair in a better mood. But since she, like Dorota, had no idea what would set her off, she had ventured away from the tried and true Audrey classics.

"The Proposal," Serena said with a giddy smile, certain her friend couldn't find anything wrong with her choice.

But as soon as the words had slipped from her mouth, the almost smile on Blair's features quickly flashed to a glare and her brown eyes turned an alarming shade of black.

"We are not watching that," Blair said, a slight trace of venom in her tone as her hands clenched in fists, turning her knuckles first red then white.

"Come on, Blair," Serena pleaded, ignoring the warning signs as she gushed on. "Ryan Reynolds is in it and he is so hot!"

"I said," Blair replied through clenched teeth, "that we are NOT watching that."

"But Blair," Serena protested.

But Serena never finished the thought and Blair wouldn't have heard her if she had because she was now ripping the DVD out of the player and breaking it in half with a satisfying snap.

"Oops," Blair said dropping the shattered disc on the floor as she made her way back to the bed, setting the tin of popcorn to the side as she plopped down. Her mood may have been ruined but the popcorn was still very good.

"What the hell is wrong with you Blair," Serena said with a bewildered expression across her face as she picked up the pieces from the floor and threw them into the wastebasket.

"Nothing," Blair said, thoroughly examining her fingernails as she leaned back onto her bed.

"Nothing," Serena challenged, "Nothing? So that's why there aren't any deliverymen that are willing to come to your penthouse for fear of decapitation? "

Blair didn't even flinch, instead reaching for her nail file from her bedside table and resuming her examination of her nails.

"Is that why the doorman wished me luck when I came in today?"

The brunette seemed not to hear, as she filed the edge of her ring finger.

"Is that why you've ripped off the head of everyone that has come in contact with you in the last month?"

At this Blair glanced up, "Not true."

Serena tried to hold her glance but her eyes had gone back to nails almost immediately.

"Ok, you've ripped off the head of everyone that has come in contact with you in the last month," Serena amended, "that was not named Chuck. Better?"

"I wouldn't say better," Blair murmured, "But at least it's truer."

"Blair," Serena sighed, sitting down on the bed beside her best friend. "We're all worried about you. Please tell me what's wrong."

"I told you there is nothing wrong."

"Well, I don't believe that."

"That's your problem," said Blair with a shrug as she got up from the bed to check her reflection in the mirror.

Not to be discouraged, Serena followed her friend to the mirror and stood behind her, watching as her friend fussed with the flaws that only she could see.

"Is it school?" she pressed.

Blair ignored her and instead began meticulously applying another coat of mascara to her lashes.

"Is it your mom?"

Her lips twisted as she watched her friend pick up a pencil and carefully line her lips.

"Is it me?"

Still, no response came as Blair began moving lipstick over her mouth.

Serena took a deep breath as she readied herself to ask the next question.

"Are you having problems with Chuck?" her words barely a whisper.

At this, the brunette dropped the tube onto the dresser with a clatter, a strange look crossing her face.

It was a look that Serena knew well because it was one that she had seen on that face in their decades-long friendship. It was a mixture of horror: why would anyone think that she and Chuck were having problems; and insecurity, because what if they were having problems and she couldn't see it.

"Blair," Serena pressed as she watched the look quickly disappear from her friend's features being carefully replaced by the practiced look of stony indifference.

Blair let out a deep breath before turning to face her friend.

"Chuck and I aren't having problems," she said with a firmness that Serena wasn't sure Blair herself possessed.

Blair met Serena's eyes, imploring her to believe the words.

Serena looked away with a frustrated sigh, "Then what is it, Blair? Because happy and in love Blair doesn't act like this."

This was the problem with having friends that you had known since infancy: they were very adept at putting their heads back on after you had ripped them off. And when they had metaphorically put their heads back on, they would return to jabbing at the spot that had made you rip it off in the first place.

With a sigh, Blair decided that maybe it was time for her to share what had been bothering her, especially since it didn't seem like Serena was going to be leaving any time soon.

"It's not that Chuck and _I_ are having problems," Blair exhaled. "So much as _I_ am having problems."

Serena's eyes widened in horror, "You're not going to break up with him again, are you, Blair? Because I'm not sure I could forgive-"

"No," Blair said with such outrage that Serena instantly believed her.

"Then what do you mean?" Serena pried.

"He hasn't asked me," Blair said after a long pause.

"Asked you what?" Serena asked.

Of course she would choose _this_ moment to not be insightful Serena, Blair thought with a huff.

"To," Blair said, her cheeks reddening, "You know…to be his…"

"Be his what," Serena repeated, dumbfounded.

"His wife, for God's sake," Blair shouted, exasperated and embarrassed in equal measure. "He hasn't asked me to be his wife."

"Oh," Serena exclaimed as her friend's words sunk in. "Impatient Blair is bitchy Blair."

Blair merely nodded.

"We've been back together for three months and he hasn't even mentioned getting married."

"Well, three months is awfully early to think about engagements," Serena said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not when you're Chuck and Blair," Blair bit back, unamused by her friend's tasteless joke.

"Sorry, not the time for jokes."

"Glad you're beginning to see the seriousness of the situation," Blair said with a satisfied sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well," Serena began, "I don't think it's that serious."

And suddenly, all of Blair's insecurities came spilling out.

"What if he doesn't want to marry me anymore? What if I ruined it all? He's never going to propose. He doesn't want to marry me. He just wants to be my boyfriend. Forever. We're just going to be one of those couples that date forever until we finally live together and with our children. Our children won't have any friends because no one will be allowed to play at the Bass/Waldorf home because of the untraditional choices. They'll be miserable and hate us. It'll be like Bart and Eleanor times a thousand."

Blair's tirade was only stopped by the slap on her cheek, delivered by the person formally known as her best friend.

"It was the only way to get you to shut up," Serena said with a shrug, ignoring Blair's spiteful gaze as she gently rubbed the red spot on her cheek.

"But-" Blair tried to begin again.

"But, you're an idiot," Serena finished, holding up her hand to silence the new protest that Blair began.

"Of course he wants to marry you. You didn't ruin everything. He will propose. And you'll never end up like Bart and Eleanor. No matter what," she finished with a tone of authority.

"How do you know," Blair said a desperate tone slipping into her soft voice.

"Because you're Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck," Serena said with a smile.

"But how do you know I didn't ruin everything?" Blair questioned, hoping to find the assurance she saw in Serena's eyes.

"Because he wouldn't be Chuck Bass without you."

**AN:** **So sorry for the extremely overdue update. I could try to give some sort of reason, but there isn't one. There are probably 2-3 chapters left after this one. Let me know what you thought or if you're still reading. I don't own Guns N'Roses or Gossip Girl. *AND the lyrics aren't my favorite on earth but I wanted to get this out today and we are getting ready to go to a movie. If you think of something better, let me know! **


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